


Itsy Bitsy Baby Spidey

by hells_trash_can



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Classification AU, Daddy Tony Stark, Diapers, Flash is a bully, Hypersensitivity, Iron Dad, Kidnapping, Littles Are Known, Littleverse, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Pacifiers, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, S.H.I.E.L.D., Separation Anxiety, Stalking, Trauma, Trust Issues, class discrimination, little peter parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 60,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hells_trash_can/pseuds/hells_trash_can
Summary: Peter gets classified as a Little. Tony eventually becomes his daddy.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 246
Kudos: 815





	1. Chapter 1

What was that noise? It was loud and grating on Peter’s ears, making his head hurt. He whined and buried his face further into his pillow, trying to shut out the intrusive sound.

_Oh. Pillow. I’m in bed. So that would be my alarm? Tired…_

Peter’s head felt heavy, his thoughts slow. He melted into the warmth of the blankets around him, biding the call of sleep…

“Peter!” a voice called, piercing his thoughts. May?

“Peter! Wake up!” Closer now... he could hear her footsteps as she approached the room. The alarm was still going, pounding on like there was no tomorrow, and Mays footsteps matched the cadence, coming closer, her voice growing louder. Everything seemed to grow more clear as he became more aware of his surroundings, focussing on the urgent sounds.

_Thud, thud, thud._

May was knocking on his door now, and the sound finally pulled him out of his sleepy haze long enough for him to listen to his aunt.

“Peter you need to get up. Your alarm has been going for a while now. Are you okay?’

No. He was not okay. His head hurt, his nose felt runny, and he was tired. That’s what he gets for patrolling all night in the cold, but still. Didn’t mean he had to wanna get up the next morning.

He picked his head up from his pillow and rolled to face the door, whining, “I’m tiiiiiirrrred! Five more minutes.”

“No, Peter, you have to get up now. No exceptions. It’s Classification Day, remember?”

_Oh shit._

Peter sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly remembering what today was. Suddenly awake, all thoughts of feeling slightly under the weather were magnified tenfold by the boatload of nerves May had just dumped on his shoulders.

He leaned over and switched off his alarm, hoping the ceasing of noise would indicate to May that he was getting up. As she walked away, Peter's thoughts were wiring a mile a minute. 

It was Classification Day. The day that he would find out, through various state mandated tests, what classification he was. It would be life altering, future altering. Would he be an Alpha, Beta, or Omega? A Caregiver? Or, God forbid, a Little? He would rather be an Omega, and that’s saying something. 

Peter had no idea what he would get. He was a superhero, so maybe something cool? But who was he kidding, he was always the lames, nerdiest, uncool kid at school. He couldn’t stop fretting, and it distracted him all morning.

As he got dressed, he put his shirt on backwards, then inside out, and then, once his shirt was figured out, he spent an obscene amount of time trying to find a pair of socks. Eventually he stumbled out of his room, nervous about his day, head still hurting, nose still stuffed.

He could tell it would be a clumsy disastrous day already.

He sat down at the breakfast table, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the burnt bacon May offered him. He declined, politely, and reached for the fruit loops instead. As he ate, he kept fidgeting, uncomfortable in his chair, nerves making him jittery, He pulled at the collar of his shirt where the fabric tickled his neck, hyper aware of its presence. May noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

As he gathered his things to leave about ten minutes later, he rubbed at his running nose, trying to stem the flow. He got his books and stuffed them into his backpack, and, after making sure May wasn’t in sight, stuffed his mask and suit in as well. Usually he’d wear the suit under his clothes, but he knew that he’d have to go through a physical today. Zipping up the bag, Peter slung it over his shoulder and approached the door, ready to leave. Just before he reached the handle, his nose tickled and he was overcome by a sneeze. 

Ugh. He wiped his nose again. Today was going to be miserable.

“Bye, May!” he shouted into the flat, waiting for her answer before opening the door.

“Not so fast, young man!” Aunt May came running around the corner, holding one of Peter’s sweatshirt’s in her hand. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that cold you’ve got starting up! You put this on, I’m not having you go to school in the cold. Honestly, it’s fall! Why are you always under dressed?” May fretted.

“Oh, um, thanks Aunt May. I’m fine really,” he said, accepting the sweatshirt. Maybe today wouldn’t be all bad. He opened the door, finally stepping out of the flat to head to school.

“Oh, and Peter?” May stopped him, “You’ll do great on the classification test, honey. No matter what you get I’ll only love you more and be proud of you.”

Peter’s heart warmed and he felt a blush creep up his face. “Thanks, May. Love you too,” he told her, looking at his feet before finally closing the door behind him.

He set off on his way, heart warmed by May’s sentiments and a smile making its way onto his face. Yeah, today definitely wouldn’t be all bad. He was spiderman. He could do this. 

He picked up his pace as his spirits lifted, checking his watch to make sure he was on time.

Oh shoot. I’m gonna miss my bus.

There goes his good mood. Nevermind, this day wouldn’t be fine. He already had to run to catch up with his bus


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone sat together in the gym, waiting for the assembly to begin. Usually, assemblies were unbearably loud for Peter, but today the gym was quiet. Also unbearably so, but at least he wasn’t at risk of having a conniption or bursting his eardrums. 

The air felt tense, and there was a slight murmur in the air as people nervously voiced their worries to the people next to them. Everyone was on edge, waiting for everything to begin.

Peter sat next to Ned, who was craning his head to see over the heads of students around them, trying to find M.J. 

Peter was trying not to hyperventilate as his nerves built. The gym may have been more quiet than usual, but the abnormality of that only set Peter more on edge. In addition, that quiet and indistinct murmur of conversation surrounding him was really getting to his head. Voices overlapped as his advanced hearing pulled them towards him and picked up conversations he didn’t want to hear. What he would give to have normal hearing, so that the indistinct murmur was actually indistinct. 

Ned tapped his shoulder, briefly breaking him away from the sea of voices.

“Hey, Peter! I found her! See?” He was pointing at the doors of the gym, where M.J. could be seen walking in calmly, not caring that she was late, or apparently, that it was Classification Day.

“Oh yeah. I see her,” Peter raised a hand toward her in greeting, too nervous to do much more. Ned, however, stood up next to him and started waving with as much vigor as he could muster.

“Hey!” he whisper-shouted for everyone to hear, voice unnaturally loud in the almost-quiet. “Hey! M.J! Come sit over here!”

Everyone turned to look at them and Peter felt his face burn from the sudden attention. M.J. merely rose a brow at him, unimpressed, and began making her way over to them, wading through the sea of students crowding the bleachers. 

“Hey losers,” she greeted, plopping herself down between them. “You ready for this?’

“Um… Yeah. Yep I’m ready,” Peter replied, nodding along with his own words, trying to convince himself. 

“Yeah, totally. Me too. You know us M.J., ready for anything,” Ned chimed in, unconvincing. 

“Right.”

“Whatever M.J., it’s not like you’re actually ready or anything,“ Ned said, slightly huffy. 

“You can’t prove anything. Now shut up, they’re starting,” M.J. directed.

“But you’re the one who’s talk-”

“Shh, Ned,” she cut him off as Principal Morita walked to the podium that had been set up in the middle of the gym.

The principal began his speech on all of the different classifications and what receiving a certain outcome would mean. Certain classifications came with different legal statuses, all of which had to be filed to the government for taxing, voting, and legal purposes. Certain classes had better legal situations of course, which was part of what made this day so stressful. Getting the wrong classification could entirely alter your future, lifestyle choice, and career goals. And of course there were certain social stigmas associated with different classes, some of which you didn’t want to be labeled with. Yep. The system was definitely wrong, but there wasn't much that could be done about it. The public were stubborn and would hold on to their classist views come hell or high water. 

Principal Morita was walking away from the podium, Peter realized. He must have spaced out. Whatever, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t already thoroughly researched the topic. 

The gym teacher took his place, wheeling out the familiar T.V. He connected a few plugs and extension cables, fiddled with a remote, and inserted a tape into the VHS player.

There was a bit of static before a white background filled the screen, and the sound of recorder footsteps before a familiar face slid into view. 

“So you’re about to be classified,” Captain America’s voice said, as he stepped into view of the camera.

“OMG, M.J. Peter knows him! Did you know that? I bet you didn’t,” Ned whispered excitedly.

“Yes, Ned I knew that. He’s spiderman. Of course he knows the Avengers. “

“Okay, but isn’t that super cool?”

“Ned, Shh!” Peter and M.J. exclaim together, gesturing at the T.V. 

Ned shut up and kept watching.

Captain America was now explaining the parts of the test they would have to go through: The physical (“I know it’s embarrassing, but you have nothing to be shy about!”), The written portion (“Just like any test in school; do your best!”), and the behavioral observation (“Really there’s nothing to be nervous about.”). 

Peter thought that Captain Rogers was way too happy about this. 

The video ended and the freshman class watched in silent anticipation as the T.V. was rolled away, one of the stand’s wheels squeaking intermittently the entire way. Then, they were all being asked to stand up and file out the doors. They each were told to report to their homerooms, where a role call would take place before testing began. 

Peter shuffled his way to Mr. Harrington’s room, feeling apprehensive. Behind him, he could hear Flash loudly boasting to his buddies that he just knew he would be classified as an Alpha. There was just no doubt.

Peter snorted, distracted from his thoughts by Flash’s overwhelming arrogance. Well you never know, Peter thought. Maybe his ego is big enough that he actually will test as an Alpha. 

His snort was heard by Flash, and as they entered the classroom and took their seats, Flash got in his face.

“So what do you think you’re gonna get, Penis? Probably omega. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get neutral or beta,” he taunted. 

Peter opened his mouth, ready to burn him with what would have been a (hopefully) witty comeback. But before he could even take a breath, Mr. Harrington walked in and asked everyone to settle down. He explained that the first part of the test would take place in their homeroom and would be mostly multiple choice and short answer. He took out a list and began to call out names for roll call. 

Once that was done, he walked around, passing out test booklets and pencils to each student. Mr. Harrington went back to the front of the classroom, looked at the clock, and said, “Okay, you may begin now.”

The class opened their books and pencils began to move.

The test had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment, give suggestions, critique, or ask questions. Hope y’all are keepin it stellar.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter looked at his book, mind blanking for a second. What was he supposed to write under the question that asks his favorite hobby? He couldn’t very well write down that he enjoyed beating up bad guys as spiderman. He might just get committed to an institute, or maybe get back his classification results only to find that he didn’t get any of the regular classifications, but rather just _Insane_.

 _Focus, Peter. That’s irrational. You have to just write something else_. 

He thought about it for some time, and then wrote down only two words: Science and Superheroes. 

He sat back and examined his work before nodding with content and self-satisfaction. Yep. That’s a good answer. Those were both cool, and Mr. Stark was totally the best in both categories, so it’s awesome. Even if it's not really a hobby but rather some interests he has.

There weren’t many questions left on the test, but Peter didn’t feel like finishing it. His head still hurt, and his nose was still running. He looked down at his booklet wearily. Why did they need to know these things anyway? What did his favorite color have to do with anything?

He began to space out looking at the last question, hand no longer moving. He wanted to be done, he wanted to go home. His shirt collar was bothering him and his nose was tickling.

He sneezed, jerking himself out of his stupor. Ugh. Mr. Harringtons walked over and gave him a kleenex. 

Focusing back on the test, he filled out the question before closing the booklet and resting his head on his desk. He felt so tired from the test, and his head was really hurting now. He wanted it to go away. The fluorescent classroom lights pierced his eyes and made his head ache more.

 _Maybe I can just rest my eyes for a second_ …

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

But he was so tired. And his desk was so comfy…

_Desk? Oh yeah… I was taking that test…_

Suddenly, someone shoved his shoulder, hard, nearly toppling him out of his seat and startling him back into the present.

“Wake up, Penis. Stop drooling, it's disgusting.” Flash Thompson looked down at him as Peter looked around, hand shooting to his mouth to wipe away imaginary drool.

Flash laughed at the action, “Loser,” before walking away. 

The class was filtering out of the room now, Peter noticed, and he stood up to follow, not wanting to screw up the day worse than he already had. 

_Really_? He chided himself, _Falling asleep during the test?_

Perhaps he was more tired than he thought.

Everyone was funneled back into the gym, where they were organized by homeroom on the bleachers. Time for the next part: the physical. 

Peter wasn’t ready for this but. He hated doctors, he hated needles, he hated the smell of antiseptic. Everything about them grated his nerves. Also he didn’t know what all went down in these physicals. They wouldn’t have to draw blood, would they? He prayed not. That could be disastrous.

What if they ran some sort of test and found out he was spiderman? Would that happen? _Could_ that happen?

Suddenly Peter was a whole lot more nervous. How would he explain to Mr. Stark if they found him out? And he would be in so much trouble with Aunt May. Shed probably ground him, plus she’d be upset because the police would have to come and arrest him, and then Mr. Stark would probably visit him in his jail cell to lecture him about irresponsibility…

Peter thought he might vomit.

He focused himself back in the present, so he could pay attention to what was happening. He had to be hyper aware during this, he decided. He might just have to run for his life. 

The students were going to be taken from the gym by homeroom, and escorted to separate classrooms where temporary nurse stations had been set up. They would be examined, and then dismissed. 

He waited in the gym for his turn. 

It came all too soon. As his homeroom was called, Peter stood up and walked out of the gym like everyone else. As he exited the door, Mr. Harringtong directed him toward a nice-looking young lady dressed in nurse scrubs.

She took his arm, saying, “Okay sweetie, your gonna be with me. Don’t worry about a thing, I promise to make it as painless as possible.”

“Painless as possible?” He asked, horrified at the prospect of pain. What were they going to do to him?!

She looked at him and laughed at his face, “Oh no sweetie! I didn’t mean to worry you. There won’t actually be anything that hurts.”

He didn’t think that was funny. He tugged his arm away from her, trying to distance himself from her. She smelled like disinfectant. He didn’t like it. He fiddled with his shirt sleeves, pulling them down over his fists. He didn’t look at the nurse, feeling suddenly incredibly rude for pulling away from her. 

“It’s alright now sweetie. I promise it’ll be fine. It’s normal to be nervous. Now just follow me and we’ll take you to my station,” she assured him, not sounding in the least bit offended.

She began walking down a hallway, looking over her shoulder to see if Peter was following.

Peter hesitatd, then began trailing her, mentally berating himself for being so stupid about the whole thing.

_You’re Spider-Man. You can’t afford to be such a baby. Let’s go, be brave. Mr. Stark would want you to be brave._

His nerves still weren’t quieting. He didn’t want to do this. His senses seemed to be increasingly attuned to everything the more nervous he got, trying to detect the danger that was causing his stress.

The heightened senses only served to make him more nervous. The lights were brighter, his clothes seemed to chafe against his skin, and his footsteps echoed in his ears, in rhythm with his own deafening heartbeat that pounded against his already hurting head. For the millionth time that day he wished he were still at home, curled up in his warm sheets. Or maybe out patrolling, so he could distract himself. Or building legos with Ned. Or messing around in the lab with Mr. Stark.

Basically anywhere but here.

The nurse turned into a classroom and he followed, going to the nurse station that had been set up and sitting on the table.

“Alright sweetheart, my name is Tiffany, and I’m your nurse for today. We’re just gonna have to do a quick examination, and then you’ll be on your way.”

Peter nodded, trying to ignore the antiseptic that invaded his nose, making his head feel even more woozy than usual.

He could do this. There probably wouldn’t be any needles, it would be fine.

“Awesome! If you're ready, then, I’ll have to ask you to please remove your clothing except for your underwear please.”

The physical was underway.


	4. Chapter 4

So the physical wasn’t all that bad. In fact, Tiffany was really nice to him, and she even noticed his runny nose and gave him some cold medicine. 

It was a little embarrassing of course to strip down infront of her, and then get poked and prodded at. Peter was largely self conscious of his appearance, being shorter and skinnier than most. He had of course filled out a bit since becoming Spiderman, but due to his fast metabolism, he never seemed to have enough food. He often considered asking May for more, but he knew that they didn’t have that much wiggle room when it came to money and he didn’t want to add any more stress to May’s life. He could deal with a little hunger and fatigue for her sake. 

He could tell that Tiffany had noticed this as her eyes raked across his thin frame, pausing on his protruding ribs. She scribbled some notes down. 

After she was done with everything, she asked him to get dressed, and he was on his way, just as she’d said he’d be. He even got a sticker, which he was really happy about, even though he knew it was just so that they wouldn’t confuse him for someone who hasn't had their physical yet. He wore the sticker on his shirt front proudly, the little yellow smiley face acting as his badge of honor. 

He was directed into the cafeteria where he would wait for everyone to be done with their physical before being served lunch. Today was taco Tuesday, which made him really happy. He had been really brave, in his opinion, and those tacos would be well deserved. His stomach rumbled at the thought.

After a bit of waiting, and wistfully thinking of the tacos he couldn’t wait to have, Ned got done with his physical and quickly found Peter sitting himself down next to him. Now they only needed Michelle. 

In the meantime, he listened to Ned ramble about all of his worries concerning what classification he might get. Well, “listened.” Meaning sitting and spacing out while he dreamed of tacos.

M.J. arrived as the kitchen opened for serving. The students all got their food and everyone took their seats and chowed down. M.J opened her book, Sense and Sensibility, and began to read as she ate. Ned talked about whatever was latest on his mind, not caring that neither of his friends seemed to be interested. Peter was especially hungry, and so his actions reflected that, tucking in and stuffing his face as though there was no tomorrow. 

“Eww, gross Peter. Slow down, you act like your being starved,” M.J commented. Her face was still tucked into her book and she didn’t bother to actually lift her head to speak to him.

Peter stopped for a moment, sheepishly, before slowing down to a slightly more reasonable pace. 

“Yeah, M.J.’s right, Peter. You don’t want to make yourself sick. You have a harder time keeping food down due to nerves, as is, and I don’t want to see you vomit,” Ned chimed in, pausing in what had been a speech about the best Star Wars films in order, aimed at no one in particular.

“I don’t vomit it when I get nervous. And I’m not nervous,” Peter insisted. Between bites of taco, of course.

“Yeah, okay, vomit is a bit of an exaggeration. But you do always complain about having a stomach ache when you’re nervous. Especially after you eat. Slow down, or you will feel sick,” M.J. instructed.

“Fine, I’ll eat nicely,” Peter grumbled, pouting slightly at having to eat like a human without super metabolism. Ugh, what a pain.

They were right though, and Peter knew it. He was nervous, despite his earlier denial, about the upcoming section of the test. One one hand, it was the final part of the test, so he couldn’t wait to get it over with and go home. However, he was also largely apprehensive of what it had in store for him. He had bested and survived the first two trials, which had been terrible, but this last section was arguably more treacherous.

The last section of the test was an in-depth and highly accurate behavioral analysis. It was the latest developed part of the test, added to the original two sections in the year 1968. It used very advanced technology, developed by the U.S. Government in the Vietnam War to assess soldiers’ mental capacities. S.H.I.E.L.D, in cooperation with top scientists around the world, created a way to put a person into a deep catatonic state, and isolate a single memory. The memory was then able to be manipulated to create what would be a simulation-like experience for the patient, as they relived the memory. By monitoring behavioral decisions in different situations, with different stimuli and environment, scientists were able to identify certain tendencies and behavioral patterns unique to each classification. This final step of the test is the most precise part of the test, and it ensured a correct classification of a person, unlike in the decades prior to the final segment, in which cases of misclassification were quite prevalent. 

It terrified him. They would be able to monitor his memories, and his most impactful memories would be the ones they used. What if they chose a memory that revealed that he was Spider-Man? They would be able to see the whole thing!

What would happen if it went wrong? He had absolutely no control of the situacion, no control over what they would see when they performed the test. But he had no choice but to take it. If he didn’t there would be a government inquiry and he would be in an ever bigger mess. His best bet was to go through with it and just hope that the most impactful moments of his life didn’t include Spider-Man. Which was really concerning, seeing as there had been several times in which he had nearly died as Spider-Man. 

He felt helpless against the trial before him, and had been doing his best to avoid thinking about it all day. But now it stared him in the face, towering over him like a boot threatening to crush an insect. Once again he felt trapped under a building, as he had been literally just last year.

After finishing his tacos, he wished M.J. and Ned good luck before reporting back to his homeroom, where he would wait to be called for his behavioral screening. 

He could already feel the boot squishing him, just a small spider, into the pavement. God, did it all suddenly seem so hopeless.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter was sitting at his desk, facing the front of the room. Mr. Harrington was at his desk, looking at something on his computer. Everyone else around him sat still, silent in anticipation.

Peter felt his stomach flop. 

_This isn’t going to work. What’ll I do when Mr. Stark finds out? He’ll hate me, I know it. And what about May? Not to mention, even if this does work out okay, and the government doesn’t find out I’m Spider-man and arrest me, then I’ll still have to face my classification. What will I do if it's bad? If I get Little or Omega, Flash will never leave me alone again._

His head was hurting again, and his stomach was clenching from the nerves. He tapped his fingers on the desk, trying to distract himself from how his clothes seemed to chafe against his skin. His senses were acting up again, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He couldn’t do anything about anything at the moment. He wanted to leave, to go home, to cuddle up with May and watch movies. 

Why did he have to do this?

_If I get the wrong classification, I won’t be able to get the job I want, and Mr. Stark won’t let me keep my internship and he won’t let me be Spider-Man. It will be not only a legal liability, in terms of the internship, but he’ll probably tell me I don't belong there. I won’t be able to face him._

The wrong classification could mean the end of life as he knew it. So there was no option. He couldn’t get Little or Omega. No exceptions. He prayed he would get Alpha, or at least a Neutral or Beta. Even a Caregiver would be okay. Just anything that would not take away what little he had managed to attain. 

His thoughts were broken by Mr. Harrington standing up and saying in a loud voice, “All right, listen up everyone! This next part of the test is pretty complicated, so it will be overseen by a S.H.I.E.L.D. official. They will give you specific instructions on exactly what you will have to do. I expect you to listen to them perfectly. You will wait in here for your turn for the screening. 10 of you will go at a time, when your names are called by Ms. Martin here, who is here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. to overlook the procedure and make sure that all equipment is used correctly and each person is accounted for. Wait here until you hear you name, and then stand up and allow Ms. Martin to escort you to the room you will be screening in.”

Ms. Martin stepped forward, gave a brief wave, and then looked down at the clipboard that she was holding. She flipped through a couple of pages and then stopped, beginning to read the first names. 

“Okay, first up we have Raylenne Abrams, Tammy Bourbeau, James Baake, Fred Corner, Micheal Corner, Alicia Dauphin….”

She finished listing the names, and the students called stood up and filed to the front of the room, looking at Ms. Martin expectantly. She smiled, and said, “Follow me, then,” and turned to go out the door, reluctant and apprehensive students trailing behind her, throwing glances over their shoulders at their fellow students as though they wouldn't be seeing them again.

Their antics made Peter feel even worse. He could feel the dread coiling in the pit of his stomach, and it made him fidget in discomfort. He wrapped an arm around his middle, hugging himself in an effort to find comfort. His other hand had found its way to his mouth, where Peter chewed at his thumb restlessly. Everything just felt so wrong today and he just couldn’t fathom any of it turning out okay and in his favor. 

He sat like that as Ms. Martin came back and got more students, left and came back again. Eventually, Ms. Martin called out, “Peter Parker,” and Peter felt himself rise to his feet, as though in a trance. He followed her and the other students out the door, Flash Thompson directly in front of him. 

Flash dropped back a few steps to walk beside Peter. “You ready, Penis? How much do you wanna bet you’re gonna get the most embarrassing memory you have analyzed? Can you imagine?” he said, nudging Peter in the ribs.

“Leave me alone, Flash. I don’t know what memories they’ll see.”

“Yeah? What's your most embarrassing memory anyway? Oh! I know. Remember that time in the third grade when you had to go to the bathroom but the teacher said no? And then you pissed yourself in front of everyone? Ha! I bet everyone in our class still remembers that. Little baby Parker couldn’t hold his pee.”

“Shut up, Flash,” Peter’s cheeks burned embarrassment, anger, and nerves mixing into a confusing ball of feelings. He tried to walk fast to get away from Flash, but Flash only picked up his pace and persisted, intent on tormenting Peter.

“Oh my God! That was so funny! And Mrs. Wesley was just so embarrassed, and she had you stand on a plastic bag so you didn’t get the carpet more wet, and she had to call your Aunt in front of everyone, and then the principal walked to escort you out, and then-”

“ _Shut up, Flash,”_ tears pricked Peter’s eyes at the humiliating memory.

“-your Aunt and Uncle came and your Uncle carried you out to your car as you balled your eyes out and-”

“I SAID SHUT UP FLASH!” Peter yelled, breaking down and losing his cool. Everyone stopped walking and looked back at them, questioning looks in their eyes.

“Is everything okay back there? Yes? Then I’ll ask you to please stop making such a ruckus and follow me into this room here,” she indicated, the door to her left, and without further ado, walked briskly through it, waving a summoning hand to indicate the students should follow. Peter, mortified from the attention, shut his mouth and looked away from Flash, and entered the room as instructed. 

It was time to face the final part of the test.


	6. Chapter 6

The room, which had been a classroom just the day before, had been arranged so that the desks were temporarily removed from the room and in their place were ten half reclined dentist-like chairs. There were ten attendants, each with the S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol on the lapel of their white coats.

Peter was directed to one of the chairs by one of the attendants, and he hesitated before sitting down. He didn’t like the atmosphere in this room. His chair smelled of disinfectant, like a doctor's office, and the attendants all looked too clean, too professional, too impersonal. The lights were bright and fluorescent. His senses screamed at him to get out of the hostile environment.

 _No. I can’t run from this. Man up, Spider-Man. You can do this_. 

He settled back into the chair slowly resting his head against the headrest. He looked at his attendant, who was hovering over him, patiently waiting for him to get settled.

“All right, Peter, my name is Alan, and I’m going to be running your screening. Now it's a fairly simple process, and all you need to do, for the most part, is sit back and relax while I get you set up. Then, once you go under, all you have to do is live out the memories you find yourself in, jut as you naturally did the first time around. Does that make sense?’

“Yeah, I understand,” Peter nodded.

“Perfect! Then we can be on our way. Now, I’m first going to administer this serum, which allows us the ability to access and isolate your memories. It’ll take about ten minutes for it to take effect, and in that ime, I’ll use anesthesia to put you under. But before all that, we’d better get you hooked up to the monitor.”

The attendant started futsing with the computer monitor next to Peter’s chair, and then bused himself with hooking Peter up to a whole bunch of wires. First, one to monitor his pulse, and then two that Alan connected to Peter’s temples. 

“So we can see what you’re seeing,” he explained.

Then, once Peter was all settled and ready to go, Alan started to prepare a syringe and needle for injecting the serum. 

Peter, upon seeing the needle, tensed up instantly. 

“Um, sir, you know I’m actually not quite ready to do this yet I think,” he began.

The attendant, seeing Peter eyeing up the needle and getting visibly upset, rushed to calm him, “No, don’t worry, Peter. I promise you’ll be okay. I’ve done this with tons of people before you, and I can promise they’ve all walked away just fine. Please try and relax.”

 _Relax?! How on earth am I meant to relax?! You’re brandishing a needle in my face!_ Peter thought, slightly panicked. 

“Nope, sir, I definitely have to leave. I, um have to go to the bathroom,” Peter made to sit up, “Yep, that’s it. Gotta go to the bathroom. Definitely.”

Alan put a hand to Peter’s chest, stopping him before he could jump out of the chair and run out of the room, “Good try, Peter, but you’re not exactly convincing. Besides, I think you’re being slightly irrational, aren’t you? It’s just a little needle, how much harm can it do?”

Peter slumped back into his chair nodding. Realistically, he knew he was being silly. Being called out on it made him feel ashamed of himself.

_Come on, Peter. You’re better than this. What are you, a baby? Grow up. It’s just a needle. Mr. Stark wouldn’t run from this, why should I?_

“Yeah. Okay. Just do it fast,okay?” Peter said.

“Will do,” said Alan, and without further ado, administered the injection.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. After a small pinch he dared to look back to see Alan pulling away, and then discarding the empty syringe. 

“There, see, that wasn’t so bad. No need to be afraid, right?”

“I wasn’t afraid,” Peter huffed.

Alan didn’t seem very convinced, but he didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, he gave Peter the anesthesia and Peter began to slip away from the real world, falling back into the depths of his memories, being pulled years back…

… ... ...

Peter opened his eyes. Where was he? Oh yes. He was at home, and Aunt May and Uncle Ben had come to look after him for the weekend while his parents were away. How had he forgotten? Whatever, there were more important things to do. He and Aunt May were playing hide and seek while they waited for Uncle Ben to get home from work!

Peter giggled, looking out from his hiding place under the kitchen table. She wouldn’t ever find him here, the table cloth almost touched the ground! He giggled again as he heard May in the other room finish counting, “Ready or not, Petey, here I come!”

He clapped his hand over his grin as he tried his best to contain a squeal of excitement. Oh! The suspense was so thrilling!

“Is that a Peter I hear in my kitchen?” Peter gasped. How had she known?!

“ I’m gonna getcha and eat you up for dinner!” She growled out in a mock-monster voice. 

Peter couldn’t contain himself any longer and let out a long squealing giggle, beside himself with glee. She was coming! Oh no!

Suddenly the doorbell rang, and from the other side of the table clot Peter heard Aunt May slip out of character and tell him in her normal voice, “Just a second Petey sweet heart and then we can keep playing, okay?”

Peter nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him, and said back, “Otay. “

The person at the door knocked loudly three times, prompting May to hurry up, “I’m coming, just a second!”

Peter waited patiently in his hiding place as he listened to Aunt May getting the door. There were soft voices that talked in hushed and sad tones. Peter couldn't quite make out what they were saying from his spot, so he crawled out and crept to the kitchen doorway to look out into the dining room. Half hidden by the doorway, he spied on the suspicious intruders and listened to what they were saying.

“We regret to inform you that your brother-in-law, and his wife, Richard and Mary Parker died last night in a plane crash…We’re very sorry for your loss...as the next of kin, I trust your nephew will be staying with you until further arrangements are made?”

“Yes, of course I’ll look after Peter,” May responded, sounding shocked and confused.

“All right then, Ma’m we’ll be taking our leave then. Once again, we’re sorry about the loss,” The man said, stepping away from the door before putting his hat back on his head and walking away down the footpath. May closed the door behind him, still looking shell shocked.

Peter didn’t understand. He knew what dead was. That was what happened if you squished a bug. It stopped moving. But why did they say Mommy and Daddy’s name? Why were they dead? Did someone squish them? But surely that was a silly thought, albeit a scary one. Mommy and Daddy would come home tomorrow right? After all, they had promised they would. They always promised to come home when they went away, and they always did. Why was today any different?

May walked over to the couch, and sat down, so quiet. Peter didn’t like it. Something was wrong with May. Why was she sad? 

May slowly turned to look at the kitchen, probably wondering what she was meant to tell Peter. Surprise registered on her face seeing him in the doorway, as she obviously hadn’t been aware of his eavesdropping. Now that Peter could see her face, he could see the tears running down it. That confirmed it. If May was upset, then something was most definitely wrong.

Peter’s breath hitched, and a sob crawled its way out of his belly and up his throat, and suddenly his face was wet with ears and he was crying, hard. 

May looked so sad but she held her arms out to him all the same and said, “Oh honey, come here.” Peter ran to her, burying his face in her shoulder and he cried his heart out. Her arms wrapped around him and she picked him up, cuddling him close.

“Oh, Peter, baby, I am so, so sorry. But I promise it’s all gonna be okay. I’ll still be her baby, I promise,” She whispered to him, rubbing her hand in circles against his back. Peter could hear the quiver in her voice however, and could feel the shake in her breath. He knew it wasn’t okay and it made him cry harder. 

He took deep breaths through his tears, trying to stabilize himself long enough to ask the question he needed to know most. 

“Mommy and Daddy gone? No come back?”

At this question, May began to visibly shake and had to clamp a hand to her mouth to keep in a sob. After a moment she hugged Peter closer to herself and said, quietly, “No, love. They won’t come back.” 

This sent Peter into a fit of renewed sobs. He knew it. They had lied. They weren’t coming back.They had left him. Were gone forever. Dead. Suddenly his happy glowing world was collapsing around him, and everything seemed so wrong. He clung to MAy for comfort, clung to her in the hopes that she too, wouldn’t leave. 

May hugged him tightly and sat down on the couch with him, snuggling him close and trying to provide as much comfort as she could. She held him as he cried, until he cried himself out and fell asleep, and then held him until Ben got home. 

When he walked in, he looked somber. So he knew. 

“You’ve heard the news?” he asked, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his arms.

May nodded, “What are we going to do Ben?’ she whispered.

“What do we do?’ she said again, voice cracking.

The memory faded into blackness…

Peter looked around him, seeing nothing but an empty void, wondering where he was…

Oh yeah, he was about to undergo the behavioral screening. How had he forgotten…

Whatever. He turned around and saw a light growing in the distance, getting closer. Soon it was upon him, and he was drawn into the next memory…


	7. Chapter 7

Peter opened his eyes and looked around him. He was in a car, sitting in a booster seat as though he were still a child. How had he gotten there?

Oh yeah, May and Ben were bringing him to the Stark Expo! How on earth had he forgotten that?! And why wouldn’t he be in a car seat, he was only seven years old, after all. He was really disoriented after dozing off just then.

He looked out the window, wondering how much longer they had to wait until they were there. He was so excited! Not only was he going to the largest ever celebration of science and technology in the country, which was super cool, but he was going to the one run by his lifelong hero, the genius Tony Stark himself.

Peter practically already worshipped the man. He was so smart, and he made all of the coolest things! He was the world’s greatest innovator alive, and Peter wanted to be just like him. 

And, not only was Mr. Stark smart, but he was also cool because he was a really strong super hero that saved people. Yep, just two years ago, Mr. Stark announced to the world that he was the one and only Iron Man. He was totally awesome, and Peter would give anything to have the kind of powers Mr. Stark had, and the kindness, and strength, and bravery it took to help people in bad situations everyday. 

Peter knew that Iron Man could fly. He wouldn’t let anyone fall in a plane and die. He was too awesome. Peter wanted to be like that. To be the guy who saved people so that they could go home to their families. It was the ultimate goal.

So, not only was this super cool because of sciencey stuff, but also because it was run and funded by a really cool science influencer, who also happened to be the world’s greatest superhero. 

Oh, and did he mention? Tony Stark was actually gonna be there! Which meant he could maybe actually see him. Like in real life and everything!

Needless to say, Peter had taken to hero worship like a duck takes to water. It was the end all be all of his world. As such, today was the most exciting day of his life. 

He couldn’t wait. He was practically shaking with excitement. 

About thirty minutes later Tony was walking the grounds of the Expo, hand in hand with May and Ben. Currently, they were headed to a display by some random guy named Hammer. He was showing off his latest invention, which was supposedly better than Mr. Stark’s Iron Man. Peter didn’t think that was possible, but he had to admit he was definitely curious.

But never mind that! He tugged Uncle Ben’s hand, getting his attention before pointing at what had caught his eye. A booth had been set up next to the main path of foot traffic they were following, and the vendor was selling various Iron Man paraphernalia. 

Peter needed it. Hr looked up at Ben with his big brown doe eyes and pleaded, “Please Uncle Ben? Can we maybe just look?”

Ben looked at the stand and laughed. Of course Peter wanted to go there. 

“Sure thing, Peter. And, if you promise to be really good, you might even be allowed to get something. But just this one time.”

Peter couldn’t believe his ears! _I can get something?! Wow! Today was gonna be so cool._

He practically took off at a run, dragging a smiling Ben and May in tow. He already had his eye on what he wanted. The price it was marked with was pretty cheap, so he knew Uncle Ben and Aunt May would probably say yes. 

He pointed to it, eyes alight as he turned to Aunt May and said, “So I can be Iron Man too?”

May looked at the object, and her heart just melted. Peter was so sweet! It was the cheapest item there, bless his considerate heart, and how could she say no to such a cute little boy? She picked up the plastic Iron Man mask and said, “Of course Peter! After all, you’re our little hero.”

As Uncle Ben paid the vendor, Aunt May opened the packing and fit the mask over Peter’s smiling face. 

Uncle Ben turned around and saw a little Iron Man staring back at him and laughed, “Well don’t you just look invincible! Come here, Iron Man.”

He stooped down and picked Peter up, then lifted and turned him around so he could put him up on his shoulders. 

“There, now you can see everything and watch over everyone here.”

Peter giggled and wrapped one hand around Ben’s forehead for support, and with the other pointed toward the building they were headed for. “Onward!” he cried.

Ben chuckled and complied, holding onto Peter’s ankles to ensure he didn’t lose balance and fall. 

When they finally got to the stage there were already tons of people there, and they were forced to find seats in the back. 

The presentation was already underway, and ridiculous music was playing loudly over the crowd. A man came out onto stage, dancing. Peter snorted. He looked kinda dumb and silly. 

The man, after the music had ceased, began to give a speech to the crowd about war casualties. The presentation went on to show off a bunch of droids sporting military colors, for each branch of the military. Except the Coast Guard, for some reason, Peter noted. 

_Wow, this Justin Hammer is either really stupid, or just rude and inconsiderate_ , Peter thought.

As the presentation continued, and the service anthems played over the loudspeakers, the man in charge of and leading the droids was introduced. He was raised out of the stage floor in a large metal Iron-Man like suit. For the first time in the entire presentation, Peter was actually impressed. The suit the man was wearing looked ruy impressive, and appeared to be toting a large arsenal of weapons. He was sure it would be effective in a battle setting. The suit’s workman ship outshined all the drones by far, and looked far more impressive. 

“Colonel James Rhodes!” his name was announced.

Peter gasped. He knew that name! That was Mr. Stark’s best ever friend! Any Stark fan would know that. No wonder he had access to such cool technology. There was no way Justin Hammer’s subpar technology could ever make something so sleek. Wow.

He turned to Uncle Ben to tell him who that man was but was surprised to find the seat empty. When did he get up? Where did he go? Peter had been too absorbed in the display to notice. He turned to May to ask her where he went.

Aunt May leaned over to reply, “Oh he’ll be right back sweetie. He just went to the bathroom.”

Peter nodded and refocused his attention back on stage. And just on time, too. Suddenly, Iron Man himself was there, hijacking the presentation and stealing the spotlight. Peter sat silently as he observed his hero with awe. 

Iron Man landed spectacularly on the stage, in that epic superhero way. The crowd erupted in cheering and applause around him, and he smiled and joined in. Wow, Mr. Stark was so cool! He totally just flew in like he owned the place! Although, Peter supposed, he might as well, seeing as the entire Expo was named after him.

The Iron Man walked over to Colonel Rhodes and started talking to him, before taking a place by his side and waving at the crowd, renewing their cheers.

As Justin Hammer tried to take back the center of attention, Peter observed Iron Man stepping in front of the War Machine again appearing to be conversing urgently with him. Suddenly, War Machine had a gun aimed directly at Tony. Everyone gasped, and the droids behind War Machine began to move as well, taking up combat positions.

May was tugging at Peter’s arm, telling him to get up and that they were going. Peter barely registered it, eyes still trained on the scene in front of him. People were starting to get up and run down the aisle toward the exit. Suddenly Iron Man Launched himself into the sky, drawing the drones’ and War Machine’s aim after him. Sounds of gunfire erupted as they began shooting at Tony. People screamed and dove for cover. Debris rained down on everyone.

Peter jumped up, allowing May to pull him toward the door, finally understanding the danger around him. Everyone was getting up in a mad scramble and running toward the back, where they were, trying to leave.

There were too many people, and they were all too close to him and May. The crowd swept past them as Peter and May stumbled to the door. People pushed against them, crashed into them, and trample past them with zero regard to Peter and Aunt May. Someone crashed into Peter and knocked him down, ripping his hand from May’s. 

Landing on his butt on the ground, Peter’s world became a confusing tangle of legs. He crawled to get away from the kick, pushing, stumbling, and stomping mess that surrounded him. Bodies crashed past him, trampling him underfoot as though he were nothing but a piece of trash. Eventually, he made his way over to the wall and was able tro drag himself up to standing position. He looked around him through the tangled mess of bodies, trying to see past the people rushing past him. 

Where was May? Peter began to breath faster, his heart pounding as he realized that he had absolutely no idea where either Ben or May were. He was lost. At a big Expo full of panicking people, gunfire, and dangerous terrorist drones. 

What was he going to do? He didn’t know his way around. Peter felt his pulse pick up, and his breathing reached hyperventilation. 

_May? Ben? What do I do? Where do I go? What if one of the drones gets me?_

Peter felt a tear trace down his face. He had never been in such a situacion. Not even the adults knew what to do. 

He decided to try asking them for help anyway. Spotting a security guard, he tried to stop him.

“Sir! Help me please sir! Have you seen my aunt and uncle?”

The guard barely spared him a second glance, pushing past him and grunting out, “Get out of here kid, it’s not safe here.”

And then he was gone. Peter was alone. No one would help him. What would he do?

Then he remembered. He was May and Ben’s Hero. They told him to watch over everyone. So he had to be brave. 

_I can do this. Follow the people out the door, Peter. May must have gone that way. Find here and protect her. Like Iron Man. Be brave. You can do this._

Peter’s hands were shaking, and tears were streaming down his face, but he reached up to the mask that was on top of his head, and pulled it down to cover his face. He could do this. He had to. After all, it was his responsibility.

He had to find May and Ben. He wouldn’t leave them. He wouldn’t let them leave him. He was stronger now, he could protect them, just like Iron Man.

He could protect them now, even though he didn't protect Mom and Dad. He could do this.

Somehow Peter found the courage to move his feet, He let the crowd push him out the door and into the night air. He looked around him. The world was in chaos. There was building rubble blocking the path, people running to and fro. Small fires lit up the otherwise completely black night, save for the city lights that traced the horizon. 

Drones stomped past him, firing into the crowds and causing panic. 

_It’s okay. Don’t Panic. I can do this. I can find Aunt May and Uncle Ben._

Peter forced himself to continue walking through the destruction around him. There was a man laying at the ground by his feet. Peter couldn’t tell if he was dead, or if he had maybe just been knocked out by some stray falling rubble. He didn’t dawdle to find out.

_Keep going, Peter You have to keep moving. Don’t look down. Be brave._

Peter felt a sob escape him without his permission. It was all so scary. Where were May and Ben? Was he even going the right way? Were May and Ben still okay? The image of the man on the ground flashed through his head. He prayed he wouldn’t find May or Ben like that. 

Suddenly a drone blocked his path. Peter froze in fear. It was looking directly at him. The drone trained his weapon on him. Peter felt something warm and wet trail down his leg, and it vaguely registered in his mind that he must have wet himself. 

_Don’t cry, don’t run. Iron Man’s not a baby. You need to show him you’re not afraid. Stand up straight._

Peter forced himself to stand his ground. He looked the drone back in the eye, and raised his hand in an imitation of Iron Man’s hand repulsors.

_Go away. Please go away. Don’t hurt me, Peter thought desperately._

Then, something crashed into the ground in front of him, blocking the drone from his view. He heard the unmistakable sound of Iron Man’s repulsors, and saw a flash of light as the drone was blasted away. Then the figure, whom Peter had correctly now identified as the one and only Iron Man, turned to Peter and said three words that Peter would remember for the rest of his life.

“Nice work, kid.”

And then he took off, leaving a star struck Peter in his wake. Peter remained where he was, stock still in shock and disbelief, momentarily forgetting his mission. 

A familiar couple of voices broke him from his stupor, “Peter!”

He turned to see May and Ben running toward him, hand in hand. Uncle Ben looked relieved to see him, and Aunt May had tears streaming down in her face. As soon as they reached him, May scooped him into her arms, clutching him close to her chest before Ben took Her by the arm and rushed his family onward, out of the reach of danger.

They ran into the darkness of the night, fleeing the scene to find safety.

The memory faded, and once more, Peter found himself blinking and faced a black void. May’s arms ceased to hold him and he turned around wondering; how had he gotten here?

Duh. The screening. Peter mentally berated himself for being so dumb. He reminded himself that he was meant to be on high alert. He couldn’t let them see anything about Spider-Man.

A light illuminated the space he was in, and Peter walked towards it, allowing his next memory to engulf him...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A WARNING, if dead people make you queasy or you get triggered by suicidal thoughts, then maybe don’t read this. Basically uncle Ben does, so if you want to skip this that’s all you gotta know. Otherwise, keep it stellar, and don’t let anything make your day trash.

Peter opened his eyes. He was on the streets of New York, in a back alleyway. Why again?

Right. He had just gotten out of school, and had decided to walk home in the hopes of finding something to eat…

Of course, that had been back when he had assumed he had his wallet on him, but he had managed to leave that behind in his locker at school.

Which had made for a slightly awkward conversation when he couldn’t pay for the meal he had ordered, and had ended up being turned away empty handed. 

Understandable, of course, but it still sucked. And that just added to the big old pile of suck that his day had been amounting to be.

He always felt lethargic and tired since he’d been bitten, and he always felt hungry. However, his family was already financially strained as it was, and paying for his school tuition was more than he could ask of May and Ben as it was. He couldn’t find it in him to tell them that he needed more food too. They had almost been unable to afford him new clothes when he had suddenly out grown every item of clothing he owned (thank you gene altering spider), and with that added expense to what it took to care for him, May and Ben had been unable to pay rent for a couple of months and they were now very far behind. They never told Peter about any of this of course, but he was a smart kid and he saw the letters that came in the mail. It wasn’t too hard to put together. 

And so he found himself here. In an alley, rooting through a dumpster behind a restaurant like a homeless person. 

His stomach rumbled, crying out for food. God this was so demeaning. Why the hell did he have to get bitten anyway? All it did was put strain on his poor family, make him tired, and hungry. He hadn’t asked for any ridiculous powers that made the world too bright and loud and grating against his senses. He didn’t ask for ridiculous strength that made his clumsiness even more destructive. He couldn’t afford to break every surface he touched. Why the hell did he have to be this way?

He remembered the days when he would have killed for powers like these. He snorted.

 _Yeah Peter? Guess you hadn’t really thought about the downsides of being enhanced, huh?_ he thought bitterly, giving up on his fruitless search in the garbage and shoving his fists into his hoodie.

He stood there for a moment, wondering why he was even bothering anymore. Living, that is. He was a burden to his aunt and uncle, people at school ridiculed him for his nerdiness and poorer background, he knew he didn’t have any chance of being able to pay for college, and saw no chance at an internship anywhere. He couldn't even pay the fee to apply. 

And now, every day just felt torturous. He felt so hungry, so tired. Everything hurt, all the time. His senses seemed constantly dialed to eleven. His skin recoiled at the slighted touches, his eyes watered at the light, smells seemed ten times more potent, and even food seemed to feel and taste different in his mouth. He fell asleep in class, too lethargic to pay attention. He was falling behind, and he just couldn’t find it in him to care. It’s not as though he had a chance of going anywhere anyway. He wasn’t going to be a scientist, that was just a pipe dream cooked up by a small child with no concept of how the world worked. He wouldn’t ever have any chance of changing tha, it was just the reality of being poor. And this was only if he assumed he would classify as an Alpha, Beta, or Neutral. He could just end up with practically no rights at all, living in someone else’s shadow as an Omega or Little. 

He sorta didn’t see the point. It’s not like anyone cared. Except maybe Ben and May. But they’d get over him quickly enough, once they realize how much better it was to live without him.

It was all just so stupid. Peter stomped in frustration. Honestly! Why the hell was there even such a thing as a radioactive spider that handed out super power?!

His anger overwhelmed him, and, in a slightly childish move, he turned and punched the dumpster as hard as he could, watching in satisfaction as it skittered away from him across the uneven pavement before crashing into another dumpster. The loud noise sent a stray cat scampering. 

Breathing heavily in his rage, as sudden as it was, Peter did his best to calm himself down. One his breathing returned to normal, he turned on his heel, about to go back to the main street the alley branched off of and make his way home.

Before he could reach the street, however, he heard a couple of people getting in a scuffle back down the alley he had left. He stopped. Should he help? Just a year ago, the answer would have been a resounding yes. Today, however, he hesitated. After all, what business was it of his?

 _I’ll just check it out. I can walk away then if I think it’s best not to get involved_. 

Peter doubled back down the alley, following the sounds, which seemed to be of a mugging. 

“Give me the bag!” an angry voice demanded, loudly

“No please, I need this money!” a pleading feminine voice replied, sounding teary. 

“I said hand it over,” the angry voice growled.

Peter was closer to them now. He rounded a corner, and there they were, right in front of him. A man, dressed in dark clothing, held a woman at gunpoint, who clutched her bag to her chest. 

“Hey!” Peter interrupted them, “leave her alone!”

The man looked at him, then took his gun away from the woman and pointed it at Peter instead. 

“Get outta here, boy,” he growled menacingly, aiming the gun between Peter’s eyes.

Peter wasn’t having it. Just a minute ago he had been considering letting this happen, without stepping in. But seeing this guy threaten a woman for her money made his blood boil. The woman said she needed that money, and Peeter sympathized. Who did this guy think he was, taking something from the people who don’t have anything else? He was just like every rich jerk Peter ever had the displeasure of talking to. No. he wouldn't be letting this guy go. That would be unacceptable. 

In one swift movement, Peter’s hands shot out, one fist smacking the guy in the nose and the other grabbing the gun and pointing it away from Peter and the woman.

The man cried out and squeezed the trigger, firing a shot into the brick wall to Peter's right. The shot was loud; it made his ears ring. He ripped the gun away and tossed it to the ground before kicking it behind him, listening to it skitter across the pavement before stopping about fifteen feet away. 

“I think it’s maybe you who has to leave.”

Peter waited, staring the man down. After what seemed like an eternity, the guy moved, roughly shoving past him.

He turned to the woman, “Hey are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You should go home.”

“I was planning on it.”

She brushed past Peter as well. Well, you’re welcome, I guess. 

He turned on his heel, heading up the alley. 

Wait. Something was wrong. Where was the gun?

_Shit. I threw it behind me. The man left behind me. What the hell was I thinking?_

Peter felt really panicked for a moment, and considered going after the guy. But then he thought about it more.

_Who cares that he took off with the gun. He probably has more anyway, or at least a means to get another. Also it’s not as though no one else carries in this city. Plus, what would I have done with it? I’m sure it’s fine, it doesn’t matter._

He turned and started heading home, sick of the people in New York, feeling cold and empty-stomached. He wondered what May and Ben were doing now. They would probably tell him off for being late again. He didn’t really care. 

Up ahead, he heard a couple of gunshots. Well, he helped one person anyway. Why should he have to do more than that? He could see people congregating on the street one block up. He decided to skirt around them. No need to get caught up in some street shooting. It had nothing to do with him. 

As he neared the site people had crowded in closer, packing the sidewalk densely. He would have to go through the crowd, rather than around.

Peter began to elbow his way through the crowd, mumbling “excuse me’s” under his breath. However, as he neared the center of the mass , the people suddenly gave way to a small clearing. So the person had been shot closer to the side of the road than he’d thought. Damn. So much for avoiding this. 

Peter ducked his head, avoiding the crowd’s gaze, and averted his own gaze from the body he was trying to step around. Just before he was able to leave the clearing and enter back into the wall of bodies, something cold wrapped around his ankle, feebly, but it shocked him so much it almost tripped and sent him sprawling.

“Peter…” a voice rasped out behind him. Peter froze, shocked. He knew that voice…

Slowly, terrified, Peter turned around. Steeling himself, he looked down at the man whose hand gripped his ankle.

“Uncle Ben?”

He vaguely registered that his breathing had picked up pace, only noting that his head suddenly felt woozy and his balance seemed to be off-kilter. The man in front of him was his own uncle, the very man who had acted as a father figure for the majority of his life. His knees buckled, and he fell to the pavement next to his uncle.

“Uncle Ben?” he said again, in disbelief. How could this be happening? Why, of all the people in New York, did this dying man have to be Ben? 

His hands numbly gripped at the fabric of his uncle’s shirt, ghosting over the two bullet wounds in his chest, each pumping out blood at a steady rate. The people had blurred into nothing, their voices faded into a buzzing haze of background noise. 

Ben’s hand, which Peter noted was now covered in his own warm blood, found Peter’s and held it. 

“Peter…” he breathed out, the syllables nearly intangible.

Peter looked his uncle in the eye, listening desperately for any other words. They didn’t come. Peter stilled, then, dread filling him, he lowered his eyes back to his uncle’s chest. It no longer moved. Ben’s hand hung limply in his. 

_No. No, no, no, no, no. You can’t leave. You said you wouldn’t leave. Why does everyone leave?!_

Peter pulled on his uncle's shirt, dragging the body into his arms, tears flowing down his face unnoticed. The bloody wounds in his uncles chest stared up at him, the gaping holes mocking his grief. A sob ripped through Peter, shaking his entire body. 

“Uncle Ben!?” he said again, as though it could rewind time, make Ben come back to life. 

He sat there for what seemed like an eternity, holding Ben in his arms, sitting in a puddle of rapidly cooling blood, waiting for the warmth to leave Ben’s body. He held on to him as though his life depended on it, hoping in vain that he could keep Ben with him for just a bit longer, keep him from leaving him for just another day. 

He was still there when the police showed up, tears streaming down his face. Later, the police would show him a photo of the man who killed his uncle. A face he recognized. And he would hunt down the killer, the man whom he’d let walk away with the very weapon that would take his uncle from him. 

And he would send him to jail, fighting every urge he felt to take the man’s life. He vowed he would never stoop to the level of such scum. 

And he would never trust anyone he got close to. He knew they would all leave him, after all. It was simply a matter of time. 


	9. Chapter 9

Peter woke up in a slightly uncomfortable bed. It smelt funny. Like antiseptic. 

He groaned as he blinked his eyes open. Why did his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton? And he felt as though he’d been asleep for years…

And more importantly, why did his bedroom ceiling look so weird? Oh, wait. He wasn’t in his bedroom…

Peter slowly turned his head, which felt way too heavy to move. He blinked his eyes again, heavily, trying to wake up more so he could take in his surroundings. Huh. he was in a room with a whole bunch of other beds, which had his classmates in them...? His thoughts felt as slow as molasses. 

He tried to remember what he had been doing before he fell asleep. Had he gone to bed here? No, he didn’t remember the bed. Just a really weird feeling that he had been dreaming about something sad…

But when had he fallen asleep?

An attendant noticed him stirring, and approached the bed. “Hey, Peter. Glad to see you back with us. You woke a lot quicker than the others. They’ll probably still be under for another hour at least.”

He knew that voice! Peter looked at the attendant and his memories came back to him. He had been in the chair for his behavioral screening, and his attendant Alan, the same man standing over him now, had been putting him under so they could carry out the test.

Alan helped him into a sitting position and Peter swiveled his head about, testing his slowly returning mobility. Everyone was asleep but him. Huh. Maybe because of his spider powers? He’d have to ask Mr. Stark later.

He tried to remember the behavioral screening past falling asleep, but try as he might, Peter couldn’t gather more than a vague feeling of sadness. Suddenly gripped with terrible anxiety Peter started sweating. What should he do? Did they know who he was? Did the memories reveal anything that could possibly lead to him being found out? He prayed there wasn’t one in which he blatantly put on the suit and then like casually went out for patrol.

 _Relax Peter. S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn’t sent any agents to interrogate you just yet, so let’s just lay low and play it cool until they do. And then just deny everything. Yep. That’s a swell plan. God I’m gonna die._

Peter looked at Alan. “Okay… So, um, what now?”

“Well, I’m gonna give you a quick check over, just to make sure everything’s in order, and then, once you’re feeling up to it, you’re free to go! Although, I would recommend you stay in bed for a few minutes, just to let yourself wake up more and gain back all feeling in your legs. The memory serum can leave you feeling heavy-limbed, due to the fact that it manipulates your nervous system to put you more fully in the memory we’ve isolated.”

“Cool. I wanna go home. Also, do you know when we get our results?”

“Well, results get analyzed quite quickly, so you’ll only have to wait two days to get your results. They’ll be handed out at the end of the day on friday by each of your homeroom teachers, along with a full report detailing how we reached the conclusion of your classification.”

Alan carried out the check over, shining a light in Peter’s eyes, pricking him with a needle to check for sensual stimuli reaction, and checking his blinking reflex with a puff of air to his eyes. He finished it up by asking Peter to first follow his finger back and forth and up and down and then get up, slowly, to demonstrate that his balance and orientation was good enough for him to walk in a straight line.

“All right, Peter, you’re good to go. Make sure you drink plenty of fluids tonight, you’ll need it to avoid dehydration, a minor side effect of the serum,” Alan said, patting Peter on the shoulder before walking away to check on other students. 

Peter was able to go home after that, but he texted May to let her know that he was going to visit Mr. Stark in the tower. Predictably, she was a little disappointed, having wanted to interrogate Peter on how the test went. However, those questions were the last thing he wanted to face. He was a little too exhausted today to go out on patrol, but he wanted a distraction, such as Mr. Stark’s super awesome lab with all its super cool technology and gadgets. Also, he just wanted to talk to Mr. Stark. 

He texted Mr. Stark, asking if Happy could give him a ride. 

A couple minutes later, he got a reply: _Sure, Spider-kid. I got some stuff for your suit that I think you’ll like._

Peter smiled. Thank god. Mr. Stark knew exactly what he needed. He didn’t even mention the test, which Peter knew he knew about. Although, it was possible he had simply forgotten what day it was. Mr. Stark never was one to pay attention to the date. That didn’t bother Peter though. He didn’t want Mr. Stark to ask him about the test, anyway.

He waited outside the school doors for Happy. He thought about whether or not he should tell Mr. Stark about how the test went. He didn’t want to think about it, but he wanted to vent his anxieties to someone. Like about how S.H.I.E.L.D might just show up to his apartment to arrest him. Yep. That settles it. He had to tell Mr. Stark. He would be able to help, and Peter could tell him all about how this affects his life as Spider-Man, unlike May, who he can only tell the things any other teenager could tell their parents. 

Happy pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window, yelling out grumpily, “Well, are you coming? I don’t have all day kid.”

Peter smiled. “Good to see you too, Happy,” he replied cheerfully.

He hoisted his back pack into the back seat before sliding in after it, settling down into the luxuriously soft seat that only rich people like Mr. Stark could buy. 

“Hey, get buckled back there. Tony would have my hide if I just let you ride around willy nilly without a seat belt. Don’t you know anything about car safety?”

Peter got buckled and then rested his head against the window, watching the scenery as Happy pulled away, thinking about all that had gone on that day. He felt so spent after it all, he kinda just wanted to fall asleep. He closed his eyes, blocking out the light that made his eyes sting slightly. It felt so good just to relax, he thought that maybe he should just stay that way….

Suddenly Peter was being shaken awake. 

Happy was at his shoulder, leaning through the back door of the car. He had Peter’s bag over his shoulder, having gotten it when he realized Peter was asleep. 

“Get up, kid. I can’t let you sleep in the car. That’s not allowed. Also Tony’s in his workshop and already knows we’re here, so let’s not disappoint him, yeah?”

Petersat up, cheeks red with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep again. How many times was it now, today? Jeez, it wasn’t like he was some toddler who needed naps. Peter got out of the car, allowing Happy to shut the door behind him, and then started off towards the elevator. 

“Hello Master Peter,” a voice sounded as they entered the elevator.

“Hey Jarvis! How are you?”

“As good as ever, young sir. Will you be going to Tony’s floor?”

“Yep,” Peter replied happily. He was actually quite excited to see Mr. Stark. He hadn’t gone to see him all week, and had barely even talked to him on the phone. 

The elevator began to move, taking him and Happy up to the appropriate floor. The doors opened, and Peter practically ran out, excitement to see Tony now bubbling over. Happy was a little more subdued in his exit, opting to walk at a regular pace. 

Tony sat at one of the work tables, fiddling with a small piece of machinery. Upon hearing their entrance, he looked up, a grin splitting his face, “Peter! Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

“Well hello to you too,” Happy grumbled.

“Thanks for driving him Happy.”

“Yeah, but don’t go getting used to this. It won’t happen every time you call my name.”

With that, Happy deposited Peter’s backpack on a nearby table, and then took his leave, grumpily stalking back to the elevator. 

Tony snorted. “Yeah right. He says that like it’s not obvious how much you’ve grown on him. And he says the exact thing every time. ‘Don’t get used to this.’ Please.”

Peter snickered when Tony imitated Happy’s grumbly voice in a perfectly grumpy replication. He walked over and sat beside the inventor on a tall stool, allowing his legs to kick back and forth in an antsy sort of swing.

“Watcha working on?” he asked, looking over Tony’s shoulder. 

Was this what Mr. Stark had mentioned in his text to me earlier? The thing he was working on for my suit?

Tony fiddled with a wire for a moment, then answered Peter’s question, “I’m making some bots. They can be shot at your target from your web shooters, or simply released with the instruction to tail a target. They look like spiders and move like them, so at first glance they just look like a harmless little bug.”

“Arachnid,” Peter put in.

“Nerd. Yeah, arachnid, whatever. They are an extension of your A.I, Karen, so you can give them instructions through her and they can report back intel. They also function as trackers, or, if necessary, can carry out certain offensive maneuvers.”

“Offensive maneuvers?”

“Oh yeah. This is it gets good, if I do say so myself-”

“Narcissist.” Peter interrupted, stabbing back at Tony for having called him a nerd.

Tony continued, unfazed and immersed in his presentation of the bots, “-The first of their offensive maneuvers was designed with Natasha’s Widow Bites in mind. You have taser webs yes, but I thought we should give you something else that’s zappy. Basically, they sink their little conductive fangs into your target, and then zap them. You can adjust the amount of electricity via Karen of course, and instakill is always an option.”

“What is it with you and instakill? Do all of your A.I.’s have that function?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t they? Anyway, they also function to inject tranquilizers into your target, to put them asleep if need be. They can also hack into building systems, using an advanced program I coded. Also, they have lasers, but can only fire once before they use all their power. I will fix that, but for now they have a limited power reserve, because I thought it might be risky to let you parade an army of arc reactor spiders around.”

“Hey! An army of spiders! You know Ned once asked me if I could summon an army of spiders?”

Tony chuckled, “Yep. I know. He may have asked me about it when I first met him. He seemed rather suspicious that you may be harboring secret abilities that you were keeping hidden from him.”

Peter furrowed his brow, “But why would I hide that?”

“It’s Ned. I don’t think he means to accuse you of hiding things from him, he’s just a really big and super enthusiastic nerd. Even nerdier than your, if that’s at all possible.”

Peter snorted out a laugh, “Yeah, you’re right about that , anyway.”

“I’m Tony Stark. I’m right about everything.”

Peter laughed, then paused for a second, contemplating whether or not he should ask Mr. star about what was on his mind.

“Something bothering you, kid?”

Well, here goes. “Um, maybe? Just a little bit.”

“Yeah? Well, go on. Spill. You know I’m here to fix it,” Tony said, putting down the spider bot- he was fiddling with and directing his attention to Peter.

“Okay so you know I had my classification test today, right?”

“Yep. I wasn’t gonna push you to tell me how it went, but if you wanna talk about it I’m all ears.”

  
“So I was wondering if it would be possible for them to tell if I was Spider-Man through the test, and I think it’s maybe possible they could, especially since I don’t remember any of the memories they looked at. You don’t think S.H.I.E.L.D. will arrest me, do you?” Peter said all in one breath, rambling a little. 

“First of all, relax. I don’t know if any of your memories give anything away either. It’s possible they did, or at least hinted at it. I will admit I did think about that possibility for a long time. Now, because they a whole bunch of agents haven’t descended upon you yet, I thinks its safe to say they don’t have any concrete proof of anything. However, you may have made them suspicious, which means they could be looking into your life right now.”

“Like, spying on me?” Peter said, sounding worried. Tony noticed how tense he was.

“Maybe,” he said, trying to calm Peter down, “but I promise that they can’t do anything to you, or arrest you, without going through me first. Also, remember that you’re a minor, so that’ll work in your favor as well.”

“But do you think Aunt May is in danger?” Peter voiced his main concern. “They wouldn’t go to her to get to me, right? Like they wouldn’t hurt her? That’s not allowed, right? And they wouldn’t let word get out about me, so bad guys could get her?”

Peter was sounding more and more on edge. Looking into his eyes, Tony could see them beginning to water. He stood up and moved to where Peter sat on his stool, and pulled him to his chest in a tight and reassuring hug.

“Peter, don’t worry about it so much, okay? I can have your aunt watched by a security detail, if you would like. I can keep her safe too, I promise,” He ran his fingers though Peter’s hair as the kid snuggled closer to him, “And if I know S.H.I.E.L.D, which I do, trust me, then I know they’re all about their secrets. If they know anything, word will not get out. And we don’t even know if they know anything yet. Okay? So stop worrying. There’s nothing else you can do about it anyway. Just focus on something else. Okay?”

Peter nodded into Tony’s chest, “M’kay,” he mumbled. 

“Now how about we work on that distraction, huh? We can go upstairs and watch a movie. Would you like that? And I can order you pizza for dinner. A lot of it. You need to eat more, kid, your metabolism is way too fast.”

“Pizza would be nice. And the movie. Can it be Star Wars?”

“‘Course, kiddo. Let’s go order that pizza. I’m sure you’re starving.”

Peter’s stomach rumbled, loudly, confirming Tony’s suspicions. Tony laughed, pulling away from the hug and taking Peter’s hand, guiding him up and over to the elevator. “Let’s go, kid.”

They ended up watching movies, snuggled up on the couch together and surrounded by half-empty pizza boxes, Peter fast asleep on Tony’s shoulder. Tony looked down at his sleeping Spider-Kid, a soft smile on his face as he pulled out his phone to tell May that Peter would be spending the night at the tower. 

Tony already knew what the kid would be classified as. It didn’t take a genius to know, really.


	10. Chapter 10

When Friday came, the day they were to get their classification results back, Peter was beside himself with nerves. He couldn’t sit still in any of his classes and actually got yelled at twice or it.

They weren’t allowed to see their results until the end of the day, which Peter thought was the stupidest thing ever. Like, did they really think anyone wouldn’t be antsy, knowing that they were about to know their classification?

Even M.J. was - oh wait, no. She wasn’t on edge or anything. In fact, she was calmly reading a book, as though she hadn’t a worry in the world. 

Psycho.

Anyway, when it finally came to homeroom at the end of the day, Peter could hardly contain himself as he sat in his desk, waiting for Mr. Harington to pass out the stack of hite envelopes piled on his desk. It was killing him to stay seated, and he had the inexplicable urge to get up and lunge at Mr. Harington’s desk and grab his letter. 

Of course, that would only end badly for him, so he opted for the alternative: continue fidgeting in his desk, quietly suffering. 

Flash, a couple seats behind him, spoke up loud enough for the class to hear, “Parker,” he called, using a more school friendly nickname than usual, “What’s got you fidgeting so bad? You gotta pee or something?”

A couple students laughed and one gave Flash a high five, as though it had been the most hilarious and witty thing ever said. And yeah, maybe Peter did have to use the restroom, now that you mention it, but that’s not why he was so fidgety! 

Angry, Peter, turned around to fire an insult back, even though he hadn’t thought of one just yet. Before he could get a word out of his mouth, however, Mr. Harington chose that moment to call out, “All right everyone! Settle down now!”

The class quieted instantly, which was new. Mr. Harington continued, “Okay, so as you know, in this envelope I am about to hand you is your classification, and a report detailing each section of the test and how it led to your results. Based on these results, a lot of you will experience a change in schooling. This will constitute different assignments for certain classes, or a larger or lighter workload based on what your classification says you can handle. The really big changes will not come until next year of course, when your classification will decide which classes you must take, which you cannot take, and which you have the choice of taking. Does everyone understand?”

There was a general murmur of assent, and then Mr. Harington nodded, picked up that stack of envelopes, and began passing them out.

As an envelope was dropped on Peter’s desk, he felt his nerves disappear. Now, it was all just apprehension. 

Though up until now, he had wanted nothing but to know his classification, now that it was in his power to look, he wanted to do anything but.

Everyone around him was opening their letters, but Peter just stared at his, quietly, mentally laying out statistics and calculating the likeliness of getting each classification. Betas and neutrals made up the largest portion of society, of course, making up about 52% of all primary classifications. Alphas and Omegas came in second, making up 43%. That left the smallest category: Caregiver and littles. They made up the remaining 15% of society.

 _I’m most likely to be a Neutral or Beta, then,_ Peter thought, _Probably a Neutral, really, seeing as I literally possess zero sexual attraction to anything. Although, that could make me a caregiver. What if I’m meant to take care of someone? That would make sense, right? I mean, I go out night after night trying to keep people safe and out of harm’s way. That would make a lot of sense. I hope that’s what I get. I would barely limit my future at all, legally._

Peter still didn’t open his letter. Even though he reasoned it would most likely be something not so bad, he still didn’t want to see it.

He picked it up and tucked it in his sweatshirt pocket, then waited for the class to be dismissed. He wanted to find M.J. and Ned and ask them what they got.

The bell rang and he filed out the door after everyone else, walking out into the hall and then setting course for his and Ned’s lockers. 

He got there before Ned, so he put his stuff away and got his backpack while he waited. A few moments later, Ned appeared, looking excited.

“Peter! Oh my gosh, wait until you hear my classification, it’s nothing like I expected at all! M.J. and I decided we should meet up in front of school, and we can all share our classifications then! Oh my god I wonder what M.J. got!”

“Yeah, that sounds cool, Ned. I’m glad you like your classification,” Peter said, smiling and genuinely glad for his friend. Ned’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it was helping Peter forget his worries.

They got their stuff and then made their ways to the front doors and outside, where M.J. stood waiting for them.

“Hey losers,” she greeted, as usual. She held up her report, main classification in bold on top, a secondary classification listed beneath it.

It read: Alpha; caregiver tendencies.

“Wow! Congrats, M.J. Is that what you wanted?” Peter said. 

“Well, it was exactly what I expected. I read a lot of books on the classification process, so I had it narrowed down to either Alpha or Caregiver. And I got both. How about you, Ned?”

“Okay, so when I first read mine, I was totally confused, because my secondary classification was a total contrast to my main one, unlike M.J.’s, which are complementary. However, I read into it in my report, and it just makes my classification like way cooler.”

“So, what is then,” M.J. said, cutting right to the chase. 

“My main classification is caregiver! Which totally surprised me. I mean, I thought I was way to lame and average for that. And then, I read my secondary classification, but it said that I had Little tendencies. And so I was like, what? How does that even work? And so I kept reading, and get this, it just narrows down the age of little I am suited to care for! Because I tend to behave in an immature way, according to the test, not my words, I am perfectly suited to an older Little, like ages 4-6, whom I can play games and make believe with, but don’t have to be nearly as responsible for them as I would a younger Little. Isn’t that totally cool?”

“Dude! That’s awesome! I’m so glad you guys got classifications you wanted. That is so cool.” Peter, said, genuinely. 

“So what did you get?” M.J. asked, looking at Peter.

Peter squirmed under her gaze, not wanting to admit he’d been too much of a chicken to even open his letter yet. “Um,” he said, looking at his feet, “I don’t know? I didn’t look yet.”

Ned’s eyebrow’s draw together in concern for Peter, “Oh. Um, okay. Let us know when you open it, though okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Peter couldn’t believe his friends had had such amazing luck with their results, but couldn’t help the feeling of dread that coiled in his gut when he thought about his own envelope. He didn’t want to look. Childishly, he hoped he could just never look and never have to worry about it. Which was ridiculous, of course. 

M.J. and Ned had to leave then and went to board their bus. Peter considered going to the tower again today, but knew he should really just go home. Besides, he had to patrol tonight.

He walked home, giving himself time to work up the courage to look at his results while simultaneously working off some of his nerves. By the time he was home, he was determined to open the letter.

He went to his room, closed the door so that May wouldn’t walk in once she got home, sat down on his bed and pulled the envelope from his pocket. 

Here goes, he thought, staring down at the letter, Just get it over with, before you have time to think twice. No going back now.

And with that, he tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper inside.

He read the words on the paper and felt all his worst fears become realized. There was no secondary classification, just the main classification in solid bold letters:

LITTLE.


	11. Chapter 11

Peter stared at the word. 

_No_ , he thought, _that’s not possible._

He continued to stare down at it, as though it would change. It stared back, defiant.

No.They made a mistake, they must have.

Peter didn’t want to believe it. He threw the letter away from himself, starting to breathe heavily and erratically. 

_No! I can’t be a Little. It ruins everything!_ Peter ran his hands through his hair, breathing faster. He needed to leave his room, it was too small. He couldn’t breathe. He went to his window and slid it open, feeling the cold outside air hit his face. It made him aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, which magnified the cold air against his skin. He wiped at them haphazardly, angry that they had fallen without his consent.

He jumped out the window, recklessly not caring that he wasn’t wearing his suit and web shooters and crawled down the side of the building. As soon as his feet hit the ground he took off running, not thinking about where he was going.

The wind bit at his face and tore at his lungs, but he kept running, tears streaming down his face freely. When he felt as though he could no longer breathe, he finally stopped. A sob forced its way out of him and suddenly he was shaking and crying and sobbing uncontrollably. He sat down on the sidewalk, not caring who saw him. 

He curled his knees to his chest and hugged them, looking for comfort as he continued to sob. People were stopping to stare at him now, so he ducked his head and buried his face in his knees so he wouldn’t have to face them. 

Someone tapped his shoulder.

“Go ‘way,” Peter pouted sullenly, breath hitching.

“Kid, are you alright?” A man’s voice asked him, not heeding Peter’s demand.

Peter looked up and shoved the concerned man’s hand away from him, “Go away!” he said more loudly.

“Kid, it’s the middle of winter, and you’re not even wearing a jacket. Not to mention you’re sitting outside in the middle of the sidewalk, crying. I can’t just walk away. Now, how about you tell me what’s wrong? I can help if I know what’s wrong. Are you lost?”

Peter looked at his arms, realizing the truth of the man's words as he hugged his chilled frame. He wiped at his nose, not meeting the man’s eyes. He didn’t say anything, shrinking away from the man’s gaze.

The man sighed when Peter didn’t speak, looking at a loss for what to do. After a beat, he shrugged off his own jacket and wrapped it around Peter’s shoulders.

“My name is Derek. Can you tell me yours?”

There was a beat of silence. Why should Peter trust him? He was a total stranger, after all. Peter looked at the man suspiciously.

 _He did tell me his name,_ Peter thought, _So, I guess it’s only fair that I tell him mine._

“Peter,” He said quietly, the r sounding more like a w. 

“Okay, Peter. How about I walk you home, huh? You shouldn't be outside like this and I bet your Mommy or Daddy is just worried sick. Can you show me which way you live?”

 _Mommy or Daddy? I only have an aunt,_ Peter thought, confused. He wondered for a moment if he should correct the man, but ultimately decided it didn’t matter. He looked around him, thinking about telling the man to leave him alone, he could find his own way back, thank you. But upon glancing around him, Peter found that he was in a totally unfamiliar place, a street he couldn’t remember. 

Peter sat up, beginning to panic as he realized that he was, in fact, completely lost. He swiveled his head around more, trying to find anything that he recognized, but couldn’t see a single thing that was familiar to him.

He was breathing quickly again, feeling absolutely panicky, eyes tearing up. Derek noticed how upset Peter was becoming and put a hand on his shoulder, prompting Peter to look at him.

“Peter, buddy, can you tell me what’s wrong? I can’t help you if I don't know what’s wrong okay?”

Peter took a deep breath, and then shakily let it out, saying, “I don’t know where I am.”

Saying it out loud made it seem all too real and Peter found himself crying again.

_What’s going on? Why am I crying about this? Spider-Man doesn’t cry. But Spider-Man doesn’t get lost, either._

Derek looked into his eyes, saying, “That’s okay, Peter. I need you to calm down for me, okay? We’ll just have to take you to the police station, and then they can get you home. How does that sound?”

Yes, that sounded good. The police were safe. Peter nodded his head, comfortable with allowing the man to take him to the police. 

“Okay, good. I’m gonna have you stand up now. Can you do that for me?”

Peter stood up, and the man took his hand. Derek started walking then, softly and kindly asking Peter to go with him. They walked for several blocks, Derek muttering soft assurances to Peter the whole way, keeping him calm. In no time, they were at the Police station. Peter looked at the building, slightly astonished at how quickly they’d arrived. Had it really been that close by? Or maybe Derek had just been really good at distracting him. 

Derek led Peter inside the building, guiding Peter to a chair to wait in while he talked to the officer at the desk. 

After a couple of minutes, two officers made their way over with Derek, one of them kneeling down to be at eye level with Peter, who remained seated in his chair. The other officer had out a clipboard and pencil, writing down Peter’s name. 

”Hello, Peter,” said the kneeling officer, pleasantly. He had a nice voice, Peter thought. The officer continued, “Derek here tells me that you got a little lost and were out in the cold. Wanna tell me how that happened?”

Peter thought about it, and then summed it up as best as he could, “Well, I was really sad about what the letter said, so I ran away.”

“You ran away? Because someone sent you a mean note?”

“No, silly. Nobody sent me a mean note, I just was sad because of how the test turned out. It made me sad.” Peter frowned, remembering the way he felt when he opened his results. He didn’t like it at all, and he didn’t want to think about it.

A look of understanding dawned on the officer’s face, “Oh honey. So you only just got classified today? And you didn’t like it, which probably sent you down into headspace, huh? I suppose that means you don’t have an assigned caregiver yet, do you?”

Peter didn’t understand what the guy meant. His best friend was a caregiver, did that count? He voiced his confusion, “Um… Caregiver?”

“Who’s your Mommy or Daddy, sweetheart?”

There it was again. Mommy or Daddy. Peter’s Mommy and Daddy were dead, though. All he had was his Aunt. 

“Dead,” Peter says quietly, with a small sob. His eyes tear up again and the officer quickly backtracks, wanting desperately to avoid sending Peter into tears.

“No, no, honey, don’t cry. I just need to know who looks after you, all right?”

Too late. Peter was crying again. Derek pulled Peter into a hug and rocked him a bit, trying to calm him.

The officer sighed. He knew at this point the Little was far too upset to talk with him, so he needed a different way to contact his guardian.

The other officer cleared his throat, gaining the kneeling officer’s attention, and said, “What if we use his phone? He’s a teenager, and only just now classified, so he probably still carries one around with him. We can call his emergency contact.”

“Yeah. Good thinking, Warner.”

The officer turned back to Peter, who was now quietly sniffling in Derek’s arms. In a soft voice, he said, “Peter, would you be able to show me your phone? So I can call your legal guardian, okay?”

Peter rubbed at his eyes and nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, then handed it to the man with the nice voice. 

The officer gratefully took it, turned it on and looked at the emergency contact list. There were two numbers listed, the second one labeled May. The first on the list, however, said ‘Iron Man.’ Huh. He clicked the first number, wondering who would pick up. Hopefully, this kid’s guardian and not just some friend of his with a silly nickname.

He held the phone to his ear and waited as it rang. He heard it pick up, and a male’s voice spoke, clearly an adult, to the officer’s relief.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” the voice said, under the impression he was talking to Peter.

The officer spoke, “Hi, this Officer Bradley, NYPD stationed in Queens. We have Peter with us. Are you his guardian?”

There was a pause, and then, “Yep. Is he okay? Did he do anything wrong?”

“No, no. Everything’s okay, he just got a little lost and was outside without a jacket and no supervision. We just wanted to know if you would please come down to bring him home?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes. Thanks for finding him.”

The phone hung up, and Officer Bradley gave it back to Peter, who just looked at it blankly, then moved to put it in his mouth.

“No, no, no!” Derek said quickly, pulling it away from Peter. Wow. How young was this kid? He tucked the phone into Peter’s pocket for him. Peter took to chewing on his thumb, and Derek decided to let it slide. He may have been a caregiver, but Peter wasn't his Little, after all.

They sat and waited for about five or more minutes before a man opened the door, dressed in a full suit that looked quite expensive. Who was this kid?

And more importantly, was that man who Bradley thought he was? 

He walked over to him and held out his hand to shake the man’s hand, “Officer Bradley, sir. Thank you for coming to the station.”

The man shook his hand, “Tony Stark. Where’s Peter, then?”

The officer’s eyes nearly buggedut of his head. So it was who he thought it was. Did Tony Stark have a kid? Did he adopt one? Oh, hell. What did he just walk into?

“Right this way, sir,” he said, directing Tony to where Peter sat.


	12. Chapter 12

When Tony received the call from the police he immediately began imagining the worst possible situations. Had he been hurt? Was he in trouble with the law? Why were the police calling and not Peter? Why had they contacted him instead of May?

The fact that he had been called led him to think that Peter was in a situation he rather May didn’t find out about, which immediately made him assume that it had something to do with the kid’s alter ego, Spider-Man.

So, naturally, when asked if he was Peter’s guardian, he lied. He just hoped that didn’t lead to any legal troubles later.

Then, the officer told him that Peter had been lost, which clued him in to the fact that this situation wasn’t quite the one he had thought it to be. Peter, lost in New York? The city that he traveled street to street in on a daily basis? Not to mention that meant he didn’t have the suit on, as Karen would have been able to tell Peter where he was. 

The officer went on to say that Peter had been outside in the cold without a jacket. All in all, that didn’t surprise Tony. The kid wasn’t always the greatest at thinking ahead. It was a little worrying, however. The kid got sick easily. Just last week he had complained about having a cold. 

Then the officer said he was “without supervision” and it clicked in Tony’s mind. The police had picked up a Little, and had been worried because the kid didn’t appear to have any caregiver watching him. Naturally, they called Peter’s guardian, whom they had somehow mistaken for him. Well, at least he had Peter’s classification confirmed.

The officer was asking if he could come down to the station.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes. Thanks for finding him.”

Tony called Happy and within seconds was in a car driving to the police station.

…

“Right this way, sir,” the officer said, directing Tony to where Peter sat.

The kid looked like a mess. He had obviously been crying, his cheeks still wet and his eyes red rimmed. His feet were tucked up on the chair he was sitting on, one arm wrapped around his knees, hugging his legs close to himself. His other hand was situated to accomodate for the thumb that Peter had firmly planted in his mouth. 

Tony walked over to the kid, and crouched down in front of him. “Hey Pete. How’re you doing?” 

Peter turned his big brown doe eyes to Tony, and his face lit up immediately.

“Tony!” he all but squealed, his thumb still in his mouth.

“Hey, buddy. I take it you’re all right then. I’m gonna take you home okay? To the tower? And then I’ll call May for you.”

“Tower?” Peter asked.

“Yep. Now just hang tight for a little bit, okay. I need to talk with the nice Policeman for a minute. Can you do that for me?”

Peter nodded eagerly. Of course he could do that! He was Spider-Man after all. He could help Ironman for a bit.

Tony smiled as he stood back up, and reached a hand out to ruffle Peter’s brown curls. 

“Thanks, bug. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Tony walked over to the officer again and thanked him for calling him. The officer nodded, and said, “Did you know his classification?”

Tony replied, “I had suspected he would get Little, but they only just got the results today. I probably should have picked him up from school today instead of letting him go home himself. I guess the results really upset him.”

Tony’s brow creased in worry as he said that. He wondered why it had upset Peter so much. Yes, there were certain legal setbacks to being a Little, but surely Peter had known that he could count on Tony to support him through it? He hoped the kid hadn’t thought so lowly of him to mistrust him so much.

“Yeah, you could say that. Do you know if he’s ever fallen into headspace like this before?”

“Not that I’ve ever witnessed. Peter goes to a very advanced school and is very proficient with science classes. He even has an internship at Stark Industries. He spends all of his time doing extracurricular activities outside of school. I think he is always trying to keep up with everything and therefore never actually has time to be Little.“

“That’s understandable. And, I trust as his guardian you will act to change his schedule to be accomodating for his classification? Keeping a Little from regressing is detrimental to their health, you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I’m a caregiver, myself, so I don’t think adjusting will be hard at all, on my part. However, Peter is a stubborn little bug, He won’t want to limit his activities to allow time to be Little. Regardless, I should get him home. He needs dinner. That kid is far too scrawny to be skipping meals.”

The officer nodded in agreement. “All right. I’ll let you guys go then. Don’t let us find Peter out on his own again. He’s a Little, so he’s required by law to have his caretaker with him to watch over him.”

“I understand, officer. Thanks again for taking care of him.”

Tony walked over to Peter again, who was now sitting by himself, as the man who had found him had left once Tony had arrived.

“Ready to go, kid?” He asked, looking down at the boy. Peter nodded, then took his hand out of his mouth, raised both arms, and made little grabby hands at Tony, the universal sign to be picked up.

Tony smiled, glad Peter wanted to be held by him. “Sure thing kiddo,” he said, picking him up and situating him on his hip.

Peter instantly wrapped his arms around Tony, clinging to him like there was no tomorrow. Peter buried his head in Tony’s shoulder. 

They made their way out of the station and over to where Happy waited outside with their car. He opened the back door and went to deposit Peter on the seat. However, Peter clung tighter to Tony and whined. 

“Come on Peter, buddy. You have to let go. It’s only for a couple of minutes until we get home. I promise you can be as clingy and cuddly as you want then, and I’ll happily comply.”

Peter sat in the seat, but kept his arms around Tony’s neck, not wanting to let go. “Tony no leave?” Peter asked, using his spider powers to make his hands stick to the fabric of Tony’s suit.

Tony just about melted at the Little’s words. Also, those super powers were maybe gonna be a problem. It’s not everyday you have to take care of a little with super-abilities. 

He looked into those big, brown eyes and told him solemnly, “Peter, I will never ever leave you, okay? You don’t ever have to worry about that. I promise.”

Peter relaxed at that, and finally let go of Tony, sitting back in the seat. Tony buckled him in, closed the door, and then went around to the other side of the car to sit with him in the backseat.

Although the ride home was short, Peter fell asleep anyway, head resting on the window. Tony carried him upstairs, and, instead of carrying Peter to the room that the kid usually used when he stayed at the tower, brought him to his own personal room. He didn’t trust the kid not to roll over in his sleep and fall off the bed, hurting himself, so he would sleep with him tonight. He couldn’t go to bed without eating something though, so he called Happy to ask if he could please get some food for Peter. 

Grumpily, Happy replied over the phone, “Oh so I’m your personal waiter now? Don’t you have other people who can do this for you? You’re lucky I like that kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. Just make sure it’s something a Little can eat. Like mac ‘n cheese or something.”

“Will do. See you in a bit.”

Tony hung up the phone and looked at the sleeping Spider-Kid curled up in his bed. He wondered briefly how young Peter’s head space was. Would he need protection at night? Well, it’s not as though he currently had the supplies for that anyway. He would just have to deal with any messes that came tonight.

He also wondered if Peter would be willing to have him as a caregiver. He hated to admit it to himself, but he worried that maybe Peter wasn’t comfortable with him enough to have that kind of relationship. However, Tony knew that the kid would need a caregiver that not only was able to take care of his needs, but also knew that he was Spider-Man and would be able to take care of any problems that arise from that. Peter couldn’t exactly continue sneaking around as Spider-Man without any responsible adult looking out for him. Tony also wanted to be Peter’s caregiver because he knew how brilliant that kid was, and just couldn’t stand to see a kid like that, with so much potential, put down by society’s discriminatory laws, rules, regulations, and stereotypes. He would do everything in his power to make sure that his kid had the same opportunity as any other kid in the brainy school of his. 

While waiting for Happy to arrive, Tony decided to change Peter out of his clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and one of his old T-shirts. He couldn't very well allow the kid to sleep in his jeans, now could he? Peter snuffled and muttered unintelligibly in his sleep as he was slightly jostled. Tony smiled as he watched the kid snuggle into the blankets, now in more comfortable clothes. God, he looked so cute. If it wouldn’t have been a huge invasion of Peter’s privacy, he would have snapped a picture of him right then and there.

Shortly later, however, Jarvis announced that Happy was on his way up, currently riding the elevator. He asked Jarvis to tell him to come to his room. Peter could have dinner in bed, just this one night. He had had a hard day, and Tony felt like spoiling his kid.

He woke Peter gently, shaking his shoulder. Peer sat up slowly, whining slightly at having been awoken, and rubbing his eyes, squinting against the dull light. His whine was quickly cut off however, when his enhanced smelling caught whiff of Happy approaching down the hallway. He could smell the food already. Mac ‘n cheese? Peter’s stomach loudly grumbled, demanding attention.

Tony laughed, seeing the kid go from groggy and tired to alert and hungry in a heartbeat. He poked at Peter’s stomach, making the little boy giggle sweetly, “Let’s get some food in there, huh buddy?”

Happy entered the room and presented the bag to Tony, saying, “Mac ‘n cheese, as requested.”

“Thanks, Happy. Peter, what do you say to Happy for bringing you dinner?”

“Tank you, ‘Appy!” Peter said, excitedly crawling over to Tony and looking inside the bag.

“No problem kid,” Happy said, taking his leave.

Tony pulled the bag out of Peter’s grasp and took the container of warm noodles out of the bag.

“You like mac ‘n cheese, right?”

Peter nodded eagerly. He reached out for the container as Tony pulled the lid off of it. 

“Ah, ah, ah. You’re gonna have to let me feed you this if you’re gonna eat it in my bed, okay? I don’t want you spilling.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he looked around, seemingly noticing his surroundings for the first time. “You bed?” he asked.

“Yep, my bed. Are you okay with sleeping here for tonight?”

Peter nodded, looking somewhat bashful as he stuck his fingers in his mouth.

“None of that kiddo,” Tony said, pulling Peter’s fingers from his mouth. “We eat the noodles, not our fingers, got it?” he said, making Peter laugh.

And so Tony hand fed the mac ‘n cheese, really glad for his decision to do so. The kid was horrible messy, and he didn’t want to think about the damage Peter would have done if left to his own devices. After feeding the kid, he let the sleepy spider snuggle back up into the blankets, cuddled close to him. He asked Jarvis to turn out the lights as Peter fell asleep next to him.

Tony grabbed his phone off the nightstand, remembering suddenly that he had to call Aunt May. Shoot, it was so much later than when he had planned to do this. May was probably out of her mind with worry, and he knew she was gonna chew him up for it. Apprehensively, he dialed May, and then waited as it rang. 

As soon as she picked up, she was talking nervously a million miles an hour, “Oh my god, Tony, Peter isn’t home right now, and I called Ned…” Oh boy, Tony thought. He was gonna be here for a while.


	13. Chapter 13

Peter was so warm and sleepy. He was lying in a bed, which was big and warm. Must be at the tower, then. His bed at home was much smaller. Also this room smelled like Tony, so it couldn’t be at home. His advanced senses were able to pick these things up now, and sometimes Peter couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t able to do that.

He rolled over and snuggled deeper into the warm blankets without opening his eyes. He didn’t want to get up. But he supposed he should.... Besides, Tony always made him breakfast when he slept here. Like a really big breakfast.

Peter’s stomach grumbled, nagging at him and begging him to get up out of bed. He opened his eyes and sat up. The room was dark, but he could tell something was off right away... This wasn’t how his room looked at all.

He kicked off the blankets, about to get up and get dressed, but in doing so caused another smell to hit him. That, coupled with the nice warmth that had enveloped him earlier being suddenly replaced with cold air against wet clothes, Peter put two and two tegether.

_Shit. I wet the bed. Mr. Stark will hate me. How will I even explain this? God I can’t believe I did that like some baby still going through toilet training..._

Baby? Suddenly the previous day’s events, reading the letter, running away, the Police Station, and then Tony bringing him here.

_Fuck. There’s no way he doesn’t know. He'll hate me. And he won’t let me be Spider-Man anymore, and he’ll probably take away my internship, and he’ll treat me like I can’t do anything Shit. Has he told May? Or would May have found out on her own? FUCK, I left the letter open on the floor of my room. There’s no way she wouldn’t have seen it. How could I have been so stupid?_

Peter was hyperventilating. It wasn’t the first time he wet the bed, but he’d never done it here, it had always been at home, where he could quietly take care of the mess himself. He couldn’t believe he had behaved like a toddler in front of other people. He had never done that before, lost control of himself like that before. His breathing was getting worse, and he was feeling light headed. He curled his knees to his chest, hugging himself and trying to calm down, but everything was so wrong he just couldn’t.

His wet clothes were cold against his skin, making goosebumps rise on his flesh. The light in the room, which streamed in from windows which automatically lightened in tint when Peter sat up, suddenly seemed too bright, piercing his eyes. The smell of his own urine permeated the air, attacking his nose. He bit down on his tongue, creating a pinching pain to focus on, and the taste of blood flooded his mouth. Peter whimpered, breathing heavily, tears now streaming unnoticed by him down his cheeks. 

Suddenly someone was by his side, and warm arms wrapped around him, vaguely, through the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears, Peter registered that he could hear someone speaking, calling his name. He whimpered again, wanting the noise and light to stop hurting him, to go away. He focused on the arms wrapped around him, wondering who they belonged to. He grabbed on to the person holding him, pulling them closer, trying to ground himself to something so as to not get lost in the pain.

The arms tightened around him. He leaned into the person gratefully, breathing in their scent. Mr. Stark, Peter realized. One of the arms left him, and Peter felt a hand wiping at the tears on his face. Mr. Stark was the one talking, Peter realized, the one who had called out his name earlier. 

“Peter, it’s okay, everything’s okay. It’s just a panic attack. Try and breathe with me, okay? In and out.... In and out.... I got you buddy, okay?”

Peter, now able to respond, nodded his head against Tony’s chest. He felt so humiliated. His cheeks burned. Not only had he fallen into headspace in front of Tony, and then wet the bed, but now Mr. Stark witnessed him have a stupid panic attack over it. And was hugging him, even though he was sitting in soaked clothes, in a puddle of his own urine. God, what a disaster. 

“I’m sorry...” Peter mumbled, face still buried in Tony’s chest, refusing to meet his gaze.

Tony rubbed soothing circles along Peter’s back and said, “Sorry, kiddo, what was that? You mumbled a bit, I didn’t catch it.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, speaking up.

Tony pulled away from him and looked down at Peter, looking surprised and slightly upset, “Sorry? Kid what on earth are you sorry for? You just had a panic attack, it’s okay. Why would you say something like that?”

“Dunno. Nevermind,” he said, ashamed of himself. Then added, in a small voice, “Wet the bed. Your bed. Sorry.” 

“Peter, that’s okay. I kind of expected that it might happen. It’s fine though, alright? It’s normal for Littles. How about we get you cleaned up though? You can’t be comfortable. You can use the shower over in my bathroom, and I’ll take care of the bed and get you some other clothes to change into. Okay?”

Peter nodded, too mortified and ashamed to say anything for himself. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

...

Tony was worried about the kid. He had come running back to the room as soon as Jarvis alerted him that Peter was in distress, but still hated himself for having left the kid alone in the first place. He had just wanted to get breakfast started for Peter, to make his morning a little better, but had ended up nearly ruining everything. He should have been there when Peter woke up, instead of leaving him and coming back to find Peter had wet the bed and hyperventilating from a panic attack.

The guilt swirled in his stomach as he stripped the bed down. Once the bed was taken care of, he went into Peter’s room and got a pair of his jeans and a t-shirt for Peter to wear. He brought them into the bathroom and put them on the counter for Peter to find. He wanted to wait for the kid, but figured he should let the kid have some space to himself, and went back down the hall to the kitchen, where he continued to make Peter’s breakfast.

Ten minutes later, Peter walked into the room, hair still wet from the shower. He silently walked over to the kitchen island and pulled out a stool and sat down. He stared at the counter.

Tony walked over and placed a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of Peter. Peter didn’t touch it. Tony sighed. 

“You wanna talk about it? I know you’re not exactly thrilled with your classification, but I promise it’s okay. You don’t have anything to be upset about. And I talked to May, too, so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s not upset with you for running away yesterday, although she does want to talk with you about your classification.”

Peter didn’t respond, but did pick up his fork and start to eat a couple of bites. After a few mouthfuls he stopped again, and, timidly, asked, “So I guess you want the suit back?”

He slowly raised his eyes to look at Tony, obviously trying to gauge his reaction.

“Kid, why would you think that! Of course not! You’re not any less capable now than you were before the test. Just because the government shoved you into a category based on your natural tendencies, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly incapable of anything. Don’t ever let anybody tell you that. I won’t treat you any differently than I have before. I’m here when you need me, to help you when you need help, just as always. That won’t ever change.”

“So you don’t hate me?” Peter asked, Brown doe eyes wide and watery.

“Hate you?! Pete, where are you getting these ideas from? Why on earth would I hate you?”

“I dunno. Cuz lots of people think Littles are just big walking gross babies. They think it’s pathetic and freakish, and too much trouble to be worth it.”

“Peter, you will never be too much trouble for me. You’re not a freak, not a nuisance. I will always want to be here for you. You do know my classification right?”

“...Um, no?”

“Peter, I’m a Caregiver. You could never be unwanted, and in fact, my biology only makes me want to care for you more. I love you, not despite your classification, but because of it, because I love every part of you, whether you think it's worth loving or not.”

“So I can keep my Internship, too?”

Yes, Peter, God,” Tony had heard enough. He got up and walked around the island, wrapping Peter up in a hug. 

“Peter, Nothing will change between us if you don't want it to, but I want you to know that if you’re willing, I love you so much that I want you to be my Little. If you want me as your caregiver, that is.”

Peter didn’t respond for a second, causing Tony to feel anxious. Then, Peter spoke.

“Yeah, okay. I think I’d like that.”


	14. Chapter 14

Are you ready for this?” Tony asked, looking at Peter with one brow raised.

They were in the back of Tony’s car, outside of Peter’s building. Peter looked up at the windows of his floor, feeling slightly apprehensive. They had discussed everything and Peter and Tony were now going to tell May. They had already signed all the legal paperwork, and now only needed Aunt May, Peter’s legal guardian, on board. However, it wasn’t this that made Peter so nervous. 

What made Peter so nervous was telling Aunt May about Spider-Man. Tony insisted that she needed to know, out of respect to her, to maintain an honest relationship with her, and to explain why Tony was the optimum choice for Peter’s caregiver.

However, Peter felt like telling her this might just be the end of the world. How would she react to knowing that Peter knowingly put himself in danger every day? And that he had lied? And kept secrets? Would she think he hadn’t trusted her? 

Peter shook his head, answering Tony’s inquiry. He wasn’t ready at all.

But, if he didn’t do it now, then when would he?

“I’m as ready as I’ll get,” he decided, looking Tony in the eye, determination spreading throughout him. 

He and Tony got out of the car and headed inside, nerves gnawing at Peter the whole way. The fabric of his shirt felt itchy, he noticed, aa he pulled at the collar to keep it off his skin. The lightest touch of the fabric felt like needles grating against his skin. He whimpered as they reached the door, and Tony grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

Peter reached out, turned the knob, and walked in, announcing, “May, I’m home! Mr. Stark is here too.”

May hurried into the kitchen and wrapped Peter up in a hug, “Oh, Peter, baby, I was so worried when you weren’t at home after school on friday, and all your stuff was here but your window was open and you were gone, and your classification letter was on the ground, and i didnt know what to think! And then Tony called and said he found you at the POLICE STATION? Honestly, honey, just how strong do you think my heart is, worrying me like that?”

Peter mumbled into he hug, “I know May, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I just kinda got a little bit upset. You know. ‘Cuz of the Little thing.”

“Oh my goodness that’s right! You got Little! Peter honey, that’s so great. You know I’m so proud of you, right? Peter, sweetheart, you’ll make the cutest little ever, I just know it. Oh, and did you see your age range? That’s very important you know. Otherwise you might not get all of your needs looked after properly, which could stress you out and make you sick. I can’t wait for your lifestyle change! Everybody always feels so much better, so much healthier. You’ll see. Maybe you won’t wake up with bags under your eyes every morning, huh?” May fawned over him, pulling back from their hug to look at him, and ruffling his hair as he rolled his eyes at her mother-henning.

“Aunt May, I’m fine. And I don’t wake up with bags under my eyes. I don’t need to change my life. But no, I haven’t looked at my age range. Does that affect who my caregiver could be?”

Tony stepped in here, knowing the answer, “It does yes. Some Caregivers are only able to care for certain age ranges, while others are suited to all of them. I happen to be the latter of the two.”

May looked at Tony, “Oh, you’re a caregiver? I’m just a Neutral, but I have Caregiver tendencies.”

Tony replied, “Yes, I am. In fact, that’s what we need to talk to you about. May we sit down?”  
  
“Oh, okay. Um, sure. Just through here, then.” They walked into the living room, and everyone took a seat.

“So, you know that LIttles are required to have a caregiver by law, right? Well, we have to find me one and register me with them within the month, as per usual practice. I want Tony.”

“Okay, but if we have all month to register, don’t you think you should wait a bit? Aren’t you nid of rushing things?”

Peter shook his head, “No, because if it doesn’t work out, I can always find a different caregiver and reregister. It’s not permanent, not unless I want it to be. I just need someone who will be legally tethered to me, and I want someone who won’t ruin my life. Tony says he won’t do that, and that I can keep doing all of my extracurriculars ‘n stuff.”

“Peter, Caregivers don’t ruin lives. Any restrictions they would give you would be for your own best interest. That’s how it works. You don’t need so much on your plate, I think. It would be nice if you didn’t have to stay out so late at night. I think you need someone who will give you that structure. Besides, if you’d seen your age range, you’d agree. I can’t believe someone so young is juggling so many responsibilities. I can’t believe I let you do that.”

Tony spoke up again, “May, I assure you I would ensure Peter’s health. And I will do so according to his age range. I just don’t believe that his classification makes him any less of a capable human being, and don’t believe in taking away any of his liberties. Not to mention, there are additional reasons why Peter might need me to be his Caregiver. For one, my high security home and my status as Ironman give him much needed protection. I would also be able to balance his normal life with his alter ego without it being detrimental to him. I firmly believe that I am his best choice.”

“Sorry, what? Alter ego? Much needed protection? From what exactly?”

Tony looked to Peter, “Do you want to tell her?”

Peter sunk into the couch, and shook his head no.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“Tell me what, exactly,” May said, looking incredibly confused. Peter ducked his head away from her, and Tony noticed a tear roll down his cheek. Peter’s thumb found his mouth, where he chewed at it restlessly.

Tony cleared his throat, getting Peter’s attention, “I can tell her, buddy, it’s okay. Do you want to go wait in your room? You can play with your legos while you wait right?

Peter nodded, chest filling with relief. He got up quickly, practically running to his room. He closed the door behind him and sat against it. He listened, waiting for Tony to explain things to May. He felt so guilty for running away from this, but he just couldn’t bear to see the look of betrayal on May’s face. As it was, he could hear it in her voice, as she whisper-shouted at Tony, who was patiently explaining Peter’s circumstance to her. He could tell she was upset that he hadn’t told her, but right now she seemed to be arguing with Tony over a more pressing matter: whether or not he should be allowed to continue being Spider-Man.

“I’m his guardian, I should get some say in this!” May was saying.

“He’s a super human . He’s more than capable of doing this, and he feels guilty not doing hit. Not to mention, he needs an outlet for stress, as well as all that extra energy he has from that bug bite. Telling him to sit still and stay home would hurt him more. It would crush his heart. This is way too important to him and I can’t take it away.”

“You haven’t seen his age range! He is way too young for this.” May insisted.

“He isn’t always an infant. He is just as mature as he was before he was classified,” Tony argued.

“Oh, like that makes a difference! It may have escaped your notice, Tony, but a freshman in highschool isn’t exactly mature. He’s just a kid!” May’s voice was growing louder. Involuntarily, Peter let out a whimper, wanting them to stop. Why were they fighting? He didn’t like it. He took in a shuddering breath as a couple of tears rolled down his cheeks, trying to calm himself. 

It didn’t work. Peter kept on crying, getting louder as his sobs slowly grew out of control. The voices in the other room had stopped, gone completely quiet. He heard two sets of footsteps approach his door, and then the sound of May’s fist knocking at the door sounded above him. He scrambled away from the door, away from them. He couldn’t let May see him like this! She’ll think he’s too much of a baby to be Spider-man.

Tony’s voice sounded through the door, “Peter kiddo, are you okay?”

Peter sobbed again, the ugly noise ripping itself out of his chest without his consent. The door began to open, and Tony and May walked into the room, Tony walking straight over to Peter and picking him up, letting him snuggle up against him while he cried.

“Peter, bug, it’s okay. Why are you crying? Everything's alright.”

Peter shook his head, and then lifted it to say what was wrong, “No! Nothing’s okay. Made Aunt May sad. And she angry with me? I no be Spider-Man no more?” 

Fat tears rolled down Peter’s face, and his lip trembled. Peter was using all his might to keep from sobbing again, but when he lifted his eyes to where May stood in the doorway, he couldn’t help himself. He buried his head in Tony’s shirt, and Tony rocked him and rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back, shushing him all the while. May watched from the doorway, looking stricken.

Tony spoke up, “Peter, could you hear us the whole time, buddy? Were you listening?”

Peter nodded, and tried to voice an apology for eavesdropping and explain that he couldn’t help but hear, but all that came out was a mess of tears, sobs, and unintelligible babbling.

Tony somehow understood, and nodded, shushing his baby again, “It’s alright buddy. I get it. Nobody’s angry with you, and I will never keep you from being Spider-Man. I promised, right?”

Peter nodded tearfully into Tony’s shoulder, hiccupping as he tried to quiet his sobs.

Tony turned to May, who still looked confused, and said in explanation, “Super hearing. He could hear us arguing.”

Suddenly May looked so guilty. She hadn’t meant to make Peter upset. But now here he was, sobbing into Tony’s shoulder as he soothed the boy. She looked at the two, and could suddenly picture it quite clearly. She didn’t know Tony well, but he and Peter seemed really close already. And she may not approve of Peter being Spider-Man and putting himself in harm’s way, but at least Tony would be able to provide protection for her boy. She knew then that she would sign the papers for Peter and Tony. 

Peter was hiccupping quietly now, tears no longer flowing as Tony used his own sleeve to wipe Peter’s cheeks dry. Peter’s fingers had found their way into his mouth again, and he leaned up against Tony’s shoulder, looking sleepy from his crying session. Tony gently pulled Peter’s hand away from his mouth, saying, “We’re gonna have to find you some pacifiers to chew on, aren’t we?”

May watched them together, forgetting all of her arguments from earlier. They were just too cute, and she wanted Peter to be hape. Maybe Tony would be able to provide that.

She smiled at the thought, and, quietly, walked to the living room to sign the papers that Tony had put on the table earlier before their argument, leaving Tony and Peter to have a moment alone together.


	15. Chapter 15

Peter lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He had decided to sleep at home tonight, because tomorrow was Monday, and he would have to go to school. He wasn’t ready for school. M.J. and Ned would want to know his classification, and if he didn’t tell them, they would find out anyway because of the post-classification changes. Tony had registered him as his Little now, too, so he would be hanging out a lot more with Tony. After school he was going to be picked up by him. He wondered if Flash would pick on him more now, seeing as he was the stupid baby the bully had predicted he’d be. 

He was also thinking about how his life would change, now that he had tested as Little, and had registered a Caregiver. By law, he would move in with his caregiver after he was registered, but he had a month to do so still. However, he and Tony thought it would be best if they started altering his lifestyle right away. Tony said he wasn’t living healthily right now, and used his age range against him to argue his point. Peter needed more time to be Little, Tony told him, and he was going to set aside time for it after school, so as to remedy that. That was of course, after setting aside time to patrol the city. 

He had read his age range yesterday, and was floored at how young he was. Only one-two years. A toddler. Practically a baby. At least he wasn’t a newborn, but he still would have preferred to be older, like in Ned’s Caregiver range. Whatever, he would just have to deal with it.

For now, he should try to sleep. Peter rolled over and stared at his bedroom window, lazily looking out at the lights that cast themselves across the pane, drifting in movement as the cars passed below him.

Suddenly a spile tingling chill went through him, causing him to stiffen as he watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he felt his spider sense alert him to the nearby presence of danger. Peter caught his breath, feeling as though he should be hiding, as though invisible eyes were tracking him.

Slowly, he pulled the covers from himself, and slid out of bed, tip-toeing to the window to look out, to find the prying eyes. At the pane, he surveyed the roads beneath him, and then the roof tops. Nothing. He was about to go back to bed when a shadow caught his eye, a silhouette in a window across the street. He stepped back to the window and squinted out into the night, trying to get a better look at them. They were holding something that glowed...a rectangle. A phone? They appeared to be typing something out. Then, the figure turned away from the phone, and Peter felt their eyes land directly on him, searing into his soul. His spider sense screamed for him to run, get away, hide. The figure raised the phone and pressed it to the glass of the window, so the glow was directly facing Peter. He stared at the figure for another second, waiting for them to move, before a loud _PING_! rang out through his room. Peter startled, and turned to the sound, which had come from his phone on the nightstand. Before approaching the phone, Peter threw another glance out the window, but the silhouette had gone, vanished into the night. 

He walked over to his phone, and read the notification glowing at him from the screen:

**One new message.**

Peter unlocked the phone and read it, the chill spreading through him again, causing him to shiver.

**We know who you are Peter. We will be in contact.**

Needless to say, Peter didn’t sleep that night. He curled up on his side, chewing at his thumb as worry and fear gnawed at his gut. He wished he had someone to hold him.

...

At school the next day, Peter could barely keep his head up. Mr. Harrington was in the front of class, holding up what appeared to be different colored shirt pins. Peter was trying to listen, but his mind felt foggy and his thoughts were tired and slow, and still focussed on the events of the previous night. Who was it who had given him that message? Was it a stalker, or someone else? Was he in danger? Did they mean they knew he was Spider-Man? Should he tell Tony, or not? 

Mr Harrington was calling his name. Peter sat up and responded, cheeks heating as everyone turned in their seats to look at him, “Um, sorry. What were you saying?”

“Thanks for returning to class, Peter, though I’m sure your thoughts were miles more interesting. However, this is important, as it will be the first change you will encounter in your school life, post-classification.”

Peter heard Flash snigger across the room as he got called out. Ignoring him, Peter nodded his head, “Yes, sir. I understand.” 

Mr. Harrington went on to hold up each of the colored pins, telling them what it meant and what each color stood for. There was a pin for each classification, so that classmates would get used to their friends’ new classifications, and so that teachers could remember which students required different learning regimens. Peter was mostly zoned out as he droned on about each one, but eventually he sat up with interest as he held up the last pin.

Peter liked it instantly and wanted one. It was a soft yellow with the cutest ever little duckling on it. There were also some words in blue, which Mr. Harrington said were to specify the age range.

_Age range? Like for Littles? Does that mean I get one?_

Peter slid to the edge of his seat and bounced with excitement. He wanted his pin, now. He waited patiently for it, though, like a good boy. Mr. Harrington was coming around by each of the desks and giving each student their own individual pins. When he got to his seat, Peter couldn’t contain himself anymore, and made little grabby hands up at his teacher, whose mouth quirked into a small smile before he pressed the pin into Peter’s eagerly awaiting hands.

Peter giggled softly in delight. It was a really cute pin. He traced his finger over the image of the duck, wondering how soft it would be if he could hold it in real life. 

Everyone around had put their pins on already, so Peter decided he ought to as well. He turned it over to open the pin mechanism on the back, but found his fingers were too clumsy to get it to comply, leading to him fumbling with it and then dropping it on the floor. 

That frustrated Peter far more than it usually would have, and her pouted his lip out, on the verge of tears as he looked at his ducky pin, now sitting on the dusty classroom floor, looking forlorn and lonely. 

Just before his tears could fall however, a student stooped down and picked it up, placing it on his desk. Peter looked up to see who his savior was. She was a small girl with mousy brown hair, wearing a blue badge that said Neutral, with an image of calm waves behind it, and smaller print uat the bottom that expressed Caregiver tendencies. 

“Here you go, Peter, don’t be upset. Here, I can help you.”

She leaned over him and attached the pin to his shirt front for him, smiling when Peter looked up at her with the cutest ever grin, and said, “Fank you!” in the tiniest voice.

She returned to her seat and Peter looked down at his chest, examining his badge that he now wore. He liked it a lot. 

Class continued then as it normally would, the only difference being that he was given a coloring sheet for homework instead of a set of four questions. 

Later, at lunch, he found M.J. and Ned in line. Ned saw him first and exclaimed, “Peter, OMG, come here! You haven’t even told us your classification yet, please let us see your pin, or we’ll die of curiosity before they can even serve us lunch.”

Peter giggled at his theatrics, and then presented his pin where it sat proudly on his chest, and waited for their reactions, not nearly as worried as he had been last night. And rightfully so. M.J. gave him a smirk and said, “Congrats, dude. I totally knew that’s what you’d get. There was absolutely no way you’d have gotten anything different. I’m happy for you.”

Ned, looked stunned. However, he laughed and said, “Wow, Peter that’s so cool! I thought that you would get like neutral, but you didn’t! Little is super rare, you know. I thought that if you would get an unusual one, it would be like Alpha, ‘cuz you’re a superhero and stuff, but Little is even rarer! So cool! But it totally sucks that your age is so young. Otherwise I could have been your caretaker.”

Peter smiled, appreciating his friends’ enthusiasm, “‘S okay. I got a daddy already.”

M.J. and Ned both looked at him, shocked. “Already?” M.J. said, amazed, “But who?”

Peter puffed out his chest, proud that he already had located his perfect caregiver, “Tony,” he announced, causing Ned to blanch.

“Tony? As in Tony STARK? The billionaire who flies around in a metal suit of armor?”

“Yep,” Peter happily replied, satisfied at his friends’ twin looks of impression. 

They reached the kitchen window and each got their trays. However, while Ned and M.J. were served a burger with fries and a fruit salad side, Peter’s meal appeared entirely different. 

He looked at his tray, which had bite-sized, dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, some applesauce, some yogurt, and a small cup of what appeared to be some sort of weird cereal, and wondered if all his meals would be different now, just because he was a Little. He pouted. He was a big boy, so why couldn’t he eat a burger like his friends?

They walked to their usual table and sat down. Peter looked over at Ned’s tray, frowning again. He liked chicken nuggets, but he just felt so left out. He reached for one of Ned’s fries, thinking about how much he wanted to eat like the big kids. M.J. saw him, however, and gently grabbed his hand before his fingers could close around the food item.

Ned looked over at Peter, and saw the pout etched into his face. “Peter, I’m sorry, but you have to eat your own food. These fries could be a choking hazard for you, which is why everything on your tray is bite sized. Also, your food had extra nutrients in it, because you’re underweight. They would have noticed at the check up during the test, and adjusted for it. Eat your nuggets, Peter. You like nuggets.”

Peter wasn’t swayed, however. He turned his big doe eyes to M.J. and pouted at her instead, hoping for an alternate response. However, he was disappointed. 

“I’m not gonna say anything different than Ned so don’t give me those eyes. Besides, I don’t even know why you want our lunch when yours is obviously the best here.

 _It was?_ Pete thought, booking down at his tray again. 

“I mean,” M.J. continued, “You’re the only one here with dinosaur shaped food. How awesome is that?”

Peter smiled. Yeah, dinosaurs were pretty cool.

“Plus, you get apple juice, in a nice cup with a lid and straw, instead of this yucky, semi warm milk in a soggy carton.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. He hated school milk. It was always so gross. He looked at his tray again, and then decided he did, in fact have the better lunch. He had a whole army of dinosaurs on his tray. He picked a couple up and made them start fighting, making tiny “rawr” noises as he pretended. He giggled, then ate a couple of the nuggets, before creating another tiny battle. Before he knew it, he was done with his nuggets and was happily munching on the cereal, which had turned out to taste quite good, and was easy for him to pick up with his fingers, just like the nuggets. 

Ned and M.J. watched him, his adorableness practically causing their hearts to burst. Peter had never really shown this side to them before, other than the occasional weird statement or movement. They supposed he had never really let himself. Now however, he was actively encouraged to do so.

Looking at Peter, Ned frowned, noticing the tiny squirms of discomfort that he did intermittently. Eyeing Peter’s age range on his badge, and taking in how he was obviously very in his headspace, Ned cleared his throat and asked, “Peter, do you maybe have to go potty?”

Peter thought about it, and felt his bladder twinge as soon as he did. He hadn’t noticed until now, but he definitely had to go. Now. 

He froze in his seat, and then clamped his legs together and shoved a hand to his crotch, the need to go suddenly way too pressing. He looked at Ned with large and urgent eyes, and nodded quickly.

Ned stood up, and taking him by the hand, led him down the hall to the bathroom. Peter was practically bursting. Would he make it? Peter didn’t know he bounced doing a weird little dance as Ned opened up the slarge stall door, waited for him to go through, followed him in, then closed and locked it behind him.

Peter squirmed more, looking at the toilet. Ned’s voice asked from behind him, “Peter, do you need my help? I’ll only help you if you want me too.”

Peter whimpered, feeling as though he were going to piss himself at any moment. He held his crotch firmer as he felt himself almost let go and soak himself. He nodded his head, prompting Ned to step forward and quickly strip his pant and underwear down to his ankles, turning him around and setting him on the toilet, guiding his hand and telling Peter to “point his peepee down.”

Peter did as told and then finally let go, sighing as he felt relief flood through him. He totally hadn’t noticed how badly he had to go, and couldn’t believe that Ned had not only spotted it for him, but managed to get him to a toilet on time. Ned waited patiently for Peter to finish before helping him off the toilet, pulling up his pants, and flushing. Then they went to the sink and Ned helped Peter wash his hands, lathering them up and rinsing them for him under warm water. Before they headed back to the cafeteria however, Ned topped him and looked him in the eye.

“Peter, buddy, maybe you should talk with Tony about some kind of protection for when you’re Little, so there aren’t any accidents? We were really lucky that I noticed you had to go today, but that won’t always happen.”

“No, I’m big. No need diapers. Not a baby,” Peter shook his head adamantly, and then stomped his foot for emphasis.

Ned sighed. No wonder Tony hadn’t made Peter wear anything today. The kid was obviously going to be stubborn about this whole thing. 

He took Peter by the hand and they both headed back to the lunch table. 

The rest of the day went by without incident, up until the last bell of the day. Peter was leaving his class, skipping down the hall (past his locker, because he was distracted and a little bit forgetful today) and onwards the front doors, where he knew Happy and Tony were waiting for him. He was so excited to see Tony and tell him about his day. However, before he could reach the door, he ran smack into someone’s chest, causing him to fall flat on his butt. He looked up to see who he’d smacked into, and saw one Flash Thompson, accompanied by two goons on his flanks, towering over him. Peter shied away from him as Flash bent down and got in his face.

“Where do you think you’re going, Parker?”

Peter whimpered, not looking forward to what was to follow.


	16. Chapter 16

Tony sat outside waiting for the last school bell in his car. He would go in and get Peter when it rang, so that they could leave together. That way, it would publicly be known that Peter was his Little, and they could get that small issue out of the way sooner rather than later. 

He was excited to see Peter today. He planned a whole bunch of activities that would help Peter regress. He knew it was best for Peter to accept his biology, and knew that without regression, Peter would be leading a rather self-destructive lifestyle. He knew it would be difficult at times to get Peter to comply, but he was ready for that. For today, he thought it would be best to maximize their time together, and forego patrolling as Spider-man. 

And so, in preparation for Peter’s arrival, he had gotten a variety of Little items, including furniture for a nursery, for when Peter would move in next week as his full-time Litte, leaving his previous guardian for good. Not that Tony would ever keep Peter away from May. She would still be a large part of Peter’s life.

 _RIIIING_!

The final bell tolled, drawing Tony from his thoughts. Promptly, he gathered himself up, looking out the door in apprehension, where several dozen reporters had gathered, at an anonymous tip they had no idea was planted by Stark himself, in an effort to direct the media and protect Peter from ill intended assumptions and speculation stories.

He caught Happy’s eye in the rearview mirror, “Wish me luck,” he said, winking before opening the door and stepping into the crowd, walking briskly toward the doors. On the bright side, press weren’t allowed in the school building, so he could catch a break from them there, and get a couple of minutes to tell Peter what they were up against before heading out again. Technically, the press weren’t even allowed on school property, but they were all capable of jumping fences, and paid little regard to cameras. Thankfully, the school doors were locked from the outside, so they could only be opened on the inside. They wouldn’t be able to get in, no matter how crazed or desperate they got. Tony, however, had phoned ahead and alerted the secretary, who sounded rather shocked, disbelieving, and star-struck, that he would be arriving to take home his Little today.

He reached the doors, where a kind-faced lady opened the way for him, allowing him into the building. He thanked her, and began to walk down the hall to where he already knew Peter’s locker was. However, before he got two steps in that direction, he found himself confronted with a sight that made him livid.

…

Peter sat on the ground looking up at the kid he had just run into, trembling in terro. He looked angry. Flash’s fists were curled up tightly, looking as though they needed something to hit. Peter knew he was the optimum punching bag.

He scrambled away as Flash and his goons advanced towards him, but found his back hitting lockers behind him. He wanted to run away, but he had backed himself against a wall, foolishly, and now Flash had him cornered.

 _I can fight him. Right? I’m big, I’m strong. I’m Spider-Man. Flash is just some dumb kid_.

But Flash didn’t seem like some dumb kid right now. Right now, Flash towered over him, and Peter felt smaller than ever. He whimpered.

 _Get it together Parker, just because you’re a little, doesn’t mean you're defenseless_. He thought. Except, it occurred to him, right now might be the one scenario in which he actually was defenseless. After having time to think, Peter remembered that he couldn’t use his powers here, in school. Here, he was Puny Penis Parker, and he had to live up to the name. He couldn’t just muscle up now. 

Peter’s eyes welled up in defeat and frustration. He wanted to run, but couldn’t. He wanted to fight, but couldn’t. He was scared of being beaten to a pulp, and being forced to do nothing and just take it. 

He wanted Tony. 

Flash was right in front of him, his fists uncurling so he could reach out, grab Peter’s shirt, drag him up and slam his back against the lockers. 

Oof! The air rushed out of Peter's lungs, painfully. The two goons on Flash's side stepped forward, each taking Peter by the arm, and pinning him against the lockers while he tried to catch his breath. 

Tears were running down his cheeks now, and his eyes darted around, frantically searching fro someone who would help him. But he was out of luck. Most students simply averted their eyes and kept walking, keeping out of the conflict. Peter looked to the end of the hall, barely five feet away, where he knew just around the corner lay the office, adults, and doors to freedom. However, from here it was all just barely blocked from view.

Fash’s voice brought Peter’s eyes back to the bully who stood before him, “So, Parker, you turned out to be a Little huh? Guess we all shoulda seen that coming, shouldn't we have? Nothing but a blubbering pants-wetting baby, incapable of thinking and making big-boy decisions for himself. You disgust me, Penis,” He spat, face twisting in a sneer. 

Peter whined, trying to squirm away. This earned him an enraged punch to the gut, causing him to curl up his legs and cry out.

Flash slammed his hands on either side of his head, making the lockers rattles, and causing Peter to cringe as his over sensitive ears began to ring from the deafening noise. He tried to choke out a sob, to voice his pain, but Flash pressed a hand to his mouth, cutting off any noise. Flash leaned in close, his body pressed against Peter’s, and brought his mouth close to Peter’s ear, and whispered, “Better keep quiet there, Petey, wouldn’t want to get into trouble, now would we?”

Peter shook his head, chest shaking with silent sobs and tears freely running down his face. Flash mirked, then shoved away from the lockers, motioning for his goons to let Peter go. They did so, allowing Peter to fall to the ground, where he sat in tears, wishing he were home with Tony. Flash still towered over him, and was opening his mouth to sneer out some other piece of drivel when another, more familiar and much more welcome voice, cut him off.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing to my kid?”

Each of the four students swiveled their heads towards the newcomer, and were greeted with the sight of one Tony Stark, looking livid. He stepped forward, anger rippling off of him with each movement. Peter could’ve melted with relief. Flash stood frozen in shock and fear. His two goons had more brains than him, and followed their flight instinct, sprinting down the hall and leaving Tony faced with a teary eyed Little and a cowering bully.

“M-Mr. Stark, sir, hi. Um, what are you doing here? It’s very nice to meet you sir-”

“Shut up,” Tony commanded, string the kid down. “Get away from my baby.”

“Your, what, sir?” Flash said, looking confused and terrified at the same time.

Tony stepped forward, placing himself directly in front of Flash, face to face. He pointed clearly to where Peter sat, eyes wide and sucking his thumb, and restated his earlier sentence, “My kid. Peter.”

Flash’s eyes looked at Peter, wide, and then back at Tony, and he let out a disbelieving laugh. Tony pushed past him and scooped peter up in his arms, hugging him tightly. Peter’s limbs wrapped around him clingy, using his sticky hand to ensure that Tony wouldn’t let him go. Peter buried his face into Tony’s shoulder, crying quietly.

Flash still stood behind him, and had the audacity to speak up, “Your kid? Parker? You can’t actually mean that that sniveling thing is your Little?”

Tony slowly turned around, hardly able to contain his rage. “Yes. My kid,” he bit out, “And you’ll do well to remember that. I can have you in juvenile detention on multiple charges right now. assaulting and harassing a Little? Do you know how illegal that is? Hazing and bullying and discriminating by class? Against a two year old? I will file a restraining order against you. Be lucky you’re just some dumb kid, or it would’ve been a million times worse than that. Now get out of my way, and Never show your face in front of me, or Peter, ever again.”

Tony shoved roughly past him, carrying Peter toward the school doors. He would have to make a statement for the press later. Peter wasn’t up to facing them right now.

He opened the door and marched out through the crowd of reporters, who police were now pushing back to allow students to exit the building. Upon seeing Tony they all surged forward, flocking arounds him. The cameras flashed and they all started yelling out questions. Tony felt Peter stiffen and bry his face further into his shirt, Peter’s hands moved and clamped over his ears, and a whine emitted from his throat. 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I wanted today to be a good day,” Tony said to him, rubbing his back as they walked. “Let’s go home, kiddo. You can rest and everything will be okay. I promise. I’ll make it okay.”

He reached the car and opened the door, setting Peter down inside. He buckled him in, and then turned to the crowd as he closed the door. 

He stood, silent for a second as he thought of what to say. Today had gone so far from planned. He decided to keep it simple. 

“What, can’t a caregiver get himself a Little?” He said, smiling playfully and winking at the nearest camera.

They all exploded with questions again, begging for him to say more. However, Tony turned from them, the feigned smile melting away instantaneously.

He walked around to the other side of the car, got in, and told Happy to go. The man beyed, no questions asked. 

Tony looked at Peter. He was still crying, but was obviously trying not to. Silent tears slid down his face as he held his breath, chest shaking. Tony, heart breaking for the kid, pulled the boy to his side and wrapped his arms around him. Peter immediately broke down crying, loud sobs ripping themselves from his chest.

“I-I wanna go ho-ome.” Peter choked out, between sobs.

Tony nodded, figuring the kid meant May’s place. Understandable, even if it did hurt a bit. “Of course, kiddo. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll take you to May.”

Peter shook his head, face still buried in Tony’s shirt. “No. Home with you.”

Tony looked at him, slightly shocked, but thrilled, “Yeah. Okay, sure. No problem, buddy. Let’s go home.”


	17. Chapter 17

In a dark room, small and dirty, a man sat on his couch, drinking. It was still daylight out, but it was late afternoon, approaching evening. His blinds were drawn, and the only source of light in the room came from the old box-television in the corner. Staticky images played across its screen, the accompanying sound grainy and forced. The man sighed. He really needed a new TV.

If one was to look around the room it would be evident that that wasn’t the only thing that needed replacing. The entire house was in shambles; the wallpaper was stained, the couch was beaten and rotting, the fabric on the once plush cushions now threadbare and moth-eaten. 

In the next room, dirty dishes piled in the sink, flies lazily drifting back and forth above the mountain. The lights don't work in that room and the toilet down the hall wasn’t running.

His house was miserable. His life was dismal. Had been for a while now, ever since he had been let go from his job as an accountant, the Stark Industries bookkeeper. One simple mistake, and he had been on the streets without a second glance. He didn’t have the money to take care of himself, or his two kids. 

His daughter and son, six and eight, had been taken from him ten weeks ago, now. He wanted them back. He wanted to prove he could support them. But instead, he was rotting away before his old television set, waiting for the power company to shut down his electricity. 

On the screen a reporter stood outside of some school brainiacs. She was talking about having gotten an anonymous tip that a newly tested Little was going home with his caretaker, the one and only Tony Stark.

 _Tony Stark?_ The man’s interest was piqued, _Never would have pegged him for a man to care enough about other people that he could have a Little. He’s too heartless to care for another human being._

_He’s the reason I no longer get to care for my own children…_

The man leaned forward, gazing intently at the screen. Sure enough, he could see Tony Stark, the man who had personally come to fire him for messing his finances. He was carrying a teenage boy, on the shorter side, to his car. The boy clung to him, and hid his face from the cameras. 

_Poor kid. He deserves so much more than that bastard. I would take better care of him. Tony deserves to have his kid taken away, and I deserve my kids back._

The man continued to watch the program, which now displayed an image of a student at the school, whom the reporter identified as Peter Parker. 

He stared at the image, committing it to memory… 

Perhaps it was time to do more than sit and watch TV.

…

Tony sat curled up on his couch, one Spider-Kid clinging to him relentlessly. He had tried to pry him off earlier, after carrying him up from the car, but his all-too-human strength was no match for Peter’s powers.

And so, he simply sat down with him, and ran his fingers through his hair. Peter was falling into headspace, fast. He was snuggling into Tony, tracing the patterns on his shirt with one hand. His other hand was in his mouth. Tony had already removed it, twice. This kid needed pacifiers, badly. He removed Peter’s hand again. Peter whined, and buried his head in Tony's shoulder. He noticed a few minutes later that Peter was now chewing on his shirt, soaking it with slobber. He let him be, for now. He had planned to take Peter shopping, so he could pick out his own toys and clothes, but today had obviously been stressful for the kid. He was especially clingy, and noticeable not talkative. On the bright side, there were no overly bright lights or too-loud noises to overstimulate the kid, so he was at least able to relax and not be in pain.

Tony cooed softly at his boy, who was currently examining a small pin on his shirt, with a duckling on it, presumably there to identify his classification to others. “Do you like the ducky, Peter?” He asked, voice still soft, as he was aware that Peter’s senses could still be extra sensitive from having been overloaded earlier.

Peter nodded, and looked up at Tony though long eyelashes, his mouth forming a slobbery smile. “Ducky!” He said proudly.

Tony considered the age range Peter had. He wondered how much speech Peter was capable of, and how it varied depending on how young Peter was feeling. He wasn’t sure if Peter wasn’t speaking much right now due to stress, or because it was his natural tendency. He would simply have to get to know the kid better to find out.

They sat and cuddled for a little longer, Tony growing aware that he would have to get up eventually and get some food into the kid. If he didn’t, Peter would fall asleep without supper. Just before Tony moved the kid to his hip so he could stand up, Peter leaned against Tony, sagging against him in complete relaxation, and muttered, “Daddy.”

Tony’s heart melted. Well, he could stay cuddling for a moment longer. He pressed a kiss to his baby’s hairline, and wrapped his arms around the kid more snuggly. They stayed that way for about fifteen, twenty more minutes. It was then that Tony felt something warm spread across his abdomen and lap. He sighed. Whoops. Forgot to try and get the kid into a pull up earlier. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He held still and continued cuddling Peter, hoping the kid wouldn’t notice what he’d done and start to freak out.

No such luck. Peter stiffened, about mid stream, and started struggling to push away from Tony. Tears streamed down his panic-stricken face, and he sobbed out little “sowwy’s,” mangling the r’s in his frantic apologies. 

Peter hugged his kid to him tightly and shushed his baby, trying to sooth him. He rubbed his hand up and down his back. Slowly, the kid stopped struggling, and hung limply in Tony’s arm as he finished emptying his bladder, sobbing helplessly.

Tony held the kid tightly as he whispered to him, trying to reassure the kid that he’d done nothing wrong, “Peter, baby, it’s okay. Don’t cry, bug. It’s natural for your body to do this, and I'm not in any way upset with you. I should have gotten you into a pull-up or diaper earlier so that you didn’t have to go through this. Shhh, don’t cry.”

Tony waited until Peter finished, and asked him, “Okay, you all done?”

His baby nodded miserably, fist rubbing at his eyes. Tony kissed his forehead again, trying to reassure his kid.

He stood up, and the started heading toward the room that would eventually become Peter’s nursery. It wasn’t finished just yet, but there was a changing table he could use, as well as all the diapering supplies.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? And into a nice, dry diaper, with a warm onesie for you to snuggle in, hmm. Does that sound good, bug?”

Peter shook his head rapidly at hearing the word diaper. He had risen slightly out of head space when he had wet himself, fighting his natural needs and wants. He knew he didn’t want a diaper. He didn’t want to be a baby.

“No need!” Peter cried out adamantly. “I is big! Big ‘n stwong. No need.”

“Good try, Petey buddy. But I know better. Do you want this to happen again? No one will see you in the diaper but me, okay? You don’t need to be so upset about this. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your classification, or your biology, or your needs. I’m here to help you. That’s my purpose. Don’t worry about any of that other lucky stuff, okay? You leave that to me.”

“No need,” Peter tried again, but much more tearfully and with a lot less strength behind it. Tony knew he wouldn’t fight this. Either the kid didn’t have the energy left in him after today, or he simply had decided to give in to reason. Knowing how stubborn his boy was, however, he largely suspected it was the first.

He laid Peter down on the table and stripped him of his soiled clothes. Then he washed him thoroughly with wet wipes. He considered giving the kid a full bath, but decided against it, figuring something with that much excitement could wait for another day. After applying cream and powder, Tony diapered him up and lifted Peter from the table.

“There, not so bad, eh?”

Peter didn’t look convinced. His cheeks were ablaze with shame and embarrassment. He pouted his bottom lip out, turning big teary eyes toward his daddy, pleading for him to change his mind.

Tony only chuckled softly. “Oh, don’t be that way, duckling. Let’s get you dressed in some cozy pajamas, and then we can feed you and forget all about this.”

Tony pulled out a onesie from a nearby chest of drawers. It was baby blue, and had a light blue ladybug on the front, with the words, “Love Bug,” coiled around it in loopy lettering. As Tony dressed Peter, he couldn’t help but marvel at how soft the fabric was. He stroked it with his fingers, and hummed contentedly.

“You like it?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded. He loved it. He looked up at his caregiver and raised his arms, making little grabby hands at him. Tony shook his head though. Peter frowned. Why didn’t Tony want to hold him? Did he not want him? He stuck a couple of fingers in his mouth and chewed at them worriedly. However, Tony just said, “I got to change first, bug. Don’t want to get you all messy again.”

Oh. Peter felt kind of dumb now. He looked at Tony, noticing now that the man was covered in his urine. Peter felt like crying, again, having been the one to make Tony’s clothes all messy. His lip trembled and he hugged himself, waiting for Tony to yell at him for making such stupid mistake.

But, surprisingly, Tony didn't. Instead, the man took Peter by the hand, and then walked down the hall a couple of rooms. In there, Tony grabbed some gym shorts and a shirt from a closet. He quickly changed, and then turned and scooped Peter into his arms. Then, they headed to the kitchen.

Tony was making a bottle, Peter realised, as he watched the man with interest from his spot on a stool at the kitchen counter. Usually, he would be angry, or upset, but right now, Peter just didn’t want to. He wanted Tony to help him feel all better. He wanted his daddy to take care of him. And so he just trusted Tony and sat back as he prepared a warm bottle for Peter.

When Tony was finished, he carried Peter over to a plush rocking chair he had put in his room. He cradled the kid in his arms as he rocked, bottle feeding him. Surprisingly, the kid took the bottle quite well. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to stay awake, but the warm bottle, the soothing suckling, and the rhythmic racking otion overpowered Peter, lulling him to sleep.

Once he was conked out, Tony lay him down in the bassinet he bought for Peter, so that he could be in the same room in case the kid awoke before him. He looked down at his sleeping Spider-Kid, thinking fondly of the boy.

_Sweet dreams, duckling. I’ll see you in the morning._


	18. Chapter 18

Agent Micheal McKartney sat at his desk, paging through the file he had assembled. This assignment had been, as of ye, the most interesting one he had ever been on. A picture of a fourteen year old kid stared up at him from the top of the pile of papers, his name and information neatly listed beneath it:  
  


NAME: Peter Benjamin Parker

AGE: 14

D.O.B. : 8-27-1993

CLASSIFICATION: Little

LEGAL GUARDIAN: May Parker, for the remainder of the month.

PARENTS: Richard and Mary Parker

REGISTERED CAREGIVER : Anthony Edward Stark

ALTERNATE ALIASES: Spider-Man

To Mckartney, it was the most fascinating thing. He and several others had been assigned to the masked hero for over a year now, trying to find his identity. No one had expected the famed wall-crawler to be so young. Certainly not a kid. Especially one who hadn’t been classified yet.

But lo, at a highschool in Queens, a Classification Attendant reported strange coincidences in a student’s memories, things that created a perfect profile for their masked vigilante. 

And then that kid was identified as a Little, of all things. It had been mind boggling. Surely this kid, of a headspace of at most two years of age, could not be the same person as the man of immeasurable strength that patrolled the city and stopped crime. 

Of course, he had been tasked with finding proof. And so, after tailing the kid for about a week, and sorting through any papertrail, electronic or physical, that the kid had ever left behind, Mkcartney was able to report back to Director Fury with the most intriguing news: They had indeed found Spider-Man. But to their surprise, Spider-Man was no older than your average toddler.

He was ordered to make contact with the kid. S.H.I.E.L.D. required a meeting with him to determine whether or not they can allow him to continue to prowl the streets. Frankly, the kid’s age and classification raised many concerns. Should someone that old be allowed in this line of work? It was dangerous, and carried moral qualms. It could potentially be seen as abusive to allow a kid, especially a Little, to live in such conditions. And not only was this kid a danger and health risk to himself, but also a potential menace to the public. As an individual with mutant abilities, the kid wielded far too much, and far too deadly power. You wouldn’t let a baby play with a gun, why would they allow a Little to play superhero? He would either get killed, or kill someone else.

He couldn’t in good conscience allow this to go on. He needed to show S.H.I.E.L.D. that this couldn’t continue, even if Tony Stark plays Daddy. It was abusive to the kid, and it broke his heart. How much stress was that Little under? He didn't exactly have an empty and stress-free schedule. Not to mention his past. This kid’s family always died. How horrible. Mckartney’s heart ached for the boy. He thought about his own Little back at home. If anyone allowed his baby to live in such terrible conditions, he’d have never forgiven them. This kid needed to be rescued from himself, and his life situation. He hoped Stark would comply. Splitting up caregivers and Littles wasn’t something anyone enjoyed. It hurt all parties involved. But he needed the caregiver to see eason. Stark was hurting his baby by allowing him to continue living like this. No matter how much that Little protested, Tony STark would have to put his foot down. It’s for the kid’s own good. 

Well, the first step to fixing this mess was contacting the kid again. He needed to talk to the Little first, so that they could see what kind of mental state he was in, how dire the situation was. 

Then, they could interview him. And then, they would contact his caregiver for a meeting.

He pulled out his phone, found parker’s number, and texted him, just as he had earlier on Sunday night. It was only Tuesday morning now, but the sooner he talked to the kid, the sooner the kid would be safe. 

He put the phone down, and closed the file. Now, the only thing he could do was wait.

…

Peter sat in the car, looking out the window while Happy was driving him to school. He was feeling a lot bigger than he had yesterday, but Tony had insisted he wear a pull-up to school. He had argued, of course, but had been shut down with an embarrassing reminder of last night’s accident. And so, he shut up, swallowed his pride, and let Tony dress him in a pull-up. The older man then kissed away his tears, which Peter hadn’t even noticed had fallen. He dressed him the rest of the way, pulling a striped shirt over Peter’s head, and wrestling some pants over his legs and socks on his feet. As a finishing touch, Tony pinned his Ducky pin on Peter’s shirt for him. He gave Peter a kiss, and then sent him off with Happy, whom he gave Peter’s bagged lunch and packed backpack, which also had Peter’s suit in it and an extra pull-up. 

Peter didn’t want the pull-up. It felt foriegn and weird between his legs. He felt sure that everyone would notice he was wearing it. Even though he knew most Littles his age wore protection against accidents, he couldn’t help but feeling ashamed and demeaned, as though a part of his pride and identity had been ripped from him. 

On the bright side, Tony had packed his lunch, so he knew he wouldn’t feel hungry, even with his advanced metabolism. Tony had developed a nutrient and calorie-rich protein bar for Peter to eat. It was probably one of the best things that had changed since he registered as Tony’s Little. He got fed all the time now, and he didn’t have to worry about being a financial burden to May. 

Happy pulled up to the school doors, and turned around in the front seat, “You have a good day, kiddo. Remember, you get to go out as Spider-Man today. That’ll be fun right? Think about that, not that stupid bully from yesterday. That kid isn’t allowed near you anymore. You make sure to tell me if he even looks your way, got it? I will kick his ass.“

Peter smiled, and nodded, “Will do, Happy. Thanks.”

He got out of the car. Happy’s words had made him feel better. Flash couldn’t torment him, and he got to go patrolling later. He was looking forward to it. 

He headed into school, and went to his first class. This class had taken the place of his homeroom block, and had been dubbed Little Orientation.

He hadn’t been in this class yet, and could only make presumptions as to what it would be about. From what he knew, each classification had a class to help them understand their nature and biology more. Certain legalities would also be explained, as well as what a normal and healthy lifestyle for each classification would look like. He wondered what his class for Little would be like. This new class would become his new homeroom hour, and was the only schedule change he had. Next year was when all the big changes would occur, such as what classes he would be forced to take, and which classes would be available for him to take.

He looked at the piece of paper he had been given with his classification report. On it, was a room number where he was meant to go instead of Mr. Harrington’s classroom. He didn’t recognize the room number; it wasn’t anywhere in the school he had been before. Frowning, he headed down the hall he thought led in the right direction. 

It didn’t pan out. He doubled back, and tried a different route. He knew it was in the east wing somewhere, he simply hadn’t ever been in the east wing before. After about ten minutes of pointless wandering, Peter stopped, eyes tearing up in frustration. How did they expect him to find this place if they didn’t even tell him how to get there? He stomped his foot angrily. It wasn’t fair.

The bell rang, making Peter jump at the sudden loud noise. _Shoot, I’m late!_ He thought turning around and looking through the hall, noticing that most other students were already in their rooms. _I should’ve asked for directions before everyone left the hall… Oh, well. I’ll just have to go into one of the other rooms and ask a teacher._

Peter walked to the closest door and walked through it. Immediately, he regretted his decision. The room was filled with a large amount of big, scary alphas. They all stopped talking and looked at him when he entered, obviously wondering what he was doing there. Peter froze for a moment, feeling trapped under their stares. Then, mustering up all his courage, he continued on his mission, walking further into the lion den.

He looked around, standing on his tip toes and craning his neck to see past the mass of students. Why weren’t they in their seats? And where was the teacher? He sighed in frustration. He wasn’t getting what he wanted. He turned around making to leave the room, but ran smack into someone else instead. Peter backed up a step, looking up at whomever he had just collided with. He was greeted with the face of a tall, angry looking alpha, who looked at him and asked, “What are you doing here?”

The kid looked angry. Peter stepped back again, looking for a way to get away. He backed into a esk, and took to apologizing, hoping the kid would just step aside and let him go, “Sorry, I didn’t see you. Don’t mind me, Sorry. Um, I’m gonna go,”

The kid stepped toward him again, and raised an eyebrow. “No, I asked what you’re doing here, not for an apology. Where are you supposed to be?”

Peter shrank back at his demanding tone. The kid’s face looked so angry, his eyebrows seemed to naturally point down. _I made him mad. Shoot. He’s gonna hurt me!_

Peter whimpered and hid behind his hand as the young Alpha took another step towards him, his frame towering. He blinked back hot tears, trying and failing to keep them from falling over his eyelids. Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out from behind the Alpha boy, “Theo, what are you doing? Back off, you’re scaring him!”

M.J.?

Sure enough, one frizzy hair Alpha female stepped into Peter’s view, putting her hand on the other Alpha’s shoulder, pushing him back gently.

Peter sobbed, once, and then hugged her. She spoke again, “Peter, it’s okay. Theo wasn’t going to hurt you. He just wanted to help. Little aren’t part of this class. Are you lost, buddy? Theo was going to help you find your way, that’s all.”

Peter peaked over M.J.’s shoulder at the other kid, wondering if she meant that. The other kid looked kind of guilty, and sat hunched up a desk away.

“Peter, Theo’s nothing but a big teddy bear, really. A real softy. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Peter huffed. _I’m not scared. Nope. Not afraid, at all,_ He thought. 

An adult walked in through the door, presumably the teacher. “Sorry I’m late everyone, traffic got me. Well, go ahead and sit down then,” he said scanning the room of students. His eyes pausd on M.J. and Peter.

“M.J., if you don’t mind me asking, who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is just Peter. He got lost,” she explained, wiping away some of Peter’s tears. The man nodded.

“Ah, I see. A Little, I take it? They’ve been known to wander a bit. No worries, I can get him where he’s meant to be. Although, judging by that age range he’s got on his pin there, they may have to assign him an attendant to keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks, sir,“ M.J. said, leading Peter over to the guy by his hand. The man picked Peter up, which took him by surprise, and turned to address the class, “I’ll be right back, I just have to take care of this little guy. Stay in your seats and take out your materials before I return.”

Withthat, the man hiked Peter up on his hip and headed out the door. He walked down the hall and around the corner, where he stopped at the second door on the left. “Here you go buddy, this is where you're meant to be, not with all those big scary alphas.”

He opened the door, and brought Peter inside. This room, unlike the Alpha room, looked nothing like a classroom usually did. It was colorful and bright and had tables with crayons and shelves with toys. In the front of the room was a big circle rug, which 12 other kids sat around. Peter noticed how few Littles there were compared to Alphas. He squirmed, wanting to be put down so he could join the other kids. The man complied, lifting Peter off his hip and setting him gently on the ground. The woman that sat with the kid looked up and smiled when she saw Peter.

“Hey sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here today. That means we don’t have anyone absent!” She said cheerfully, making Peter smile with her infectious joy. Then she turned to the man and said, “Thanks, Will. I was wondering where he was. It’s always a risk that Littles don’t find their way the first day, especially since we haven’t assigned any attendants to them to watch them and keep them out of trouble.”

“No problem, Rita. You have a good day.” he waved at the kids and then left, closing the door behind him. 

Peter looked back at Rita, wondering what this class would have in store for him.

“All right everyone,” she began, “Let’s get started by telling each other our names and favorite activities. Won’t that be fun?”


	19. Chapter 19

Peter learned quickly, as all the other kids were introduced, that he was the youngest of the Littles there, both as a teen and in headspace. He was born in august, so he was one of the youngest in the grade, and the next littlest Little was three years old. Peter frowned down at his duck pin, glaring at the stupid letters that said he was 1-2 years old.

The teacher introduced herself as Rita, and asked that they simply call her Miss Rita. Then, she explained that the Little’ class was two hours instead of an hour and a half, making it longer than everyone else’s classes. Peter furrowed his brow. But wouldn’t that mean his next class would be shortened? Would everyone else go to their next class before him?

Peter raised his hand, and Miss Rita called on him, “But what about my next class? Do I just miss the first part?”

Miss Rita smiled, “Don’t worry Peter, your Physics teacher won’t miss you. Its standard practice for the Littles to have less time in class than the bigger students. Your classes later today will also be shortened to make time for a nap, and time for you to play.”

Peter huffed in annoyance. That was so unfair. The ‘bigger’ students got to go to class like normal. Why the heck was it different for him. Whatever. He would just have to deal with it. He crossed his arms grumpily.

Miss Rita smiled at his little pout, which aggravated Peter more. Then, she stood up, and gestured that all the Littles do so as well, and led them over to some tables, saying “We’re going to color for a bit while I explain the process of selecting Attendants for Littles.”

She told them all to sit, and pulled out a chair for Peter when he hesitated, because he didn’t know who to sit by. He hadn’t ever talked to any of these students before, and didn’t know if they’d like him. Miss Rita patted the chair insistently, so Peter sat down. Miss Rita set a coloring sheet in front of him, as well as some crayons. Peter looked down at his picture and smiled. Iron Man and Captain America fought side by side against the chitauri. Awesome. Peter picked up a red crayon and got to work on Iron Man’s suit.

While they worked, Miss Rita spoke, “Not every Little needs an attendant. Usually, we only assign Attendants to really young Little, because they’re the ones that display a need for guidance. However, if you can’t get through day to day and keep up with activities on your own, then it doesn’t matter what age you are. Yes, Joe, even if you’re six years old.”

She directed that last bit at a kid across the table from Peter, who looked as though he were going to impulsively blurt something out. He closed his mouth and continued working, cheeks a little red.

“Your Attendant, if you receive one, will take you to each class, accompany you to lunch, and sit with you in each of your classes. They will take care of your individual needs, depending on how extensive those are. Think of them like a babysitter, a special friend, just for you!”

 _Special friend,_ Peter thought, coloring more angrily, _Yeah right. Sounds like a whopping load of bullcrap, if you ask me. I don’t need someone to wipe my ass, thank you, I can take care of myself just fine. Keep your propaganda away from me._

His red crayon broke, suddenly, from the extra pressure he had been exerting on it. For a moment, he contemplated throwing it across the room, to make his frustration known. However, before he could raise his fist to do so, Miss Rita gently grabbed his hand, plucke the broken canyon from it, and kindly gave him a new one before continuing on as though nothing had happened.

“Your Attendant doesn’t need to be here with you in Little class, because I’ll be able to give you my full attention, unlike other teachers. Not to mention, the Attendants have their own classes to be in. Yep, Attendants are your fellow students. They are usually Neutrals, Caregivers, or Omegas, but occasionally you get an Alpha or Beta in the mix as well. It’s basically any student who applies for the extra credit. They then get trained in how to care for you, which is what they were doing yesterday and what they will be doing today. If it’s decided that you do need an Attendant, they will be assigned to you tomorrow. Won’t that be exciting?”

Peter didn’t think so.

Miss Rita continued, “So, for the rest of class today, I think we’ll have playtime! Get to know each other and have some fun. If you need anything, make sure to ask me.”

And with that, she stood up and headed to the other side of the room, where she sat and pulled out a book to read. Peter knew better. She wasn’t reading, she was only pretending to, while she kept an eye on them. Peter didn’t like that. He couldn’t just be fooled like some stupid baby he was smarter thant that. Whatever, he’d just continue coloring for now.

Suddenly, a loud BING! went through the room, making the other Littles look up from thor coloring. Peter’s cheeks colored, it was his phone. Oops. He must have forgotten to leave it in his locker.

He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the message he’d received, not noticing Miss Rita stand up and start back over to where he was sitting.

It was from the same number that had texted him a couple nights ago. It read:

**Meet me today at the coffee shop on the corner of West 22 and Wilson-Lima at 5:00 tonight.**

5:00. That gave Peter about two hours to patrol as Spider-Man. Mr. Stark didn’t expect him at the tower until 6:00. But should he go?

Before he could answer his own question, his phone was plucked from his hand. Surprised, Peter let out a little squeak before turning to see who had taken it. 

Miss Rita stood beside him, “Sorry, Peter. No phones in class. Honestly, I hadn’t thought anyone would have one, but that’s my bad. I should have said so before we began.”

She began to walk away, but Peter wasn’t about to have that. He slapped his hand down on the desk, and yelled out at her, fed up with everything about this class, “Give it back! It’s mine!”

The girl next to him, the three year old named Carly, gasped as though had just swore. Miss Rita turned around and said, “Sorry Peter, but you can’t have this in class. I’ll give it back later, but for now, you just need to play and have fun. No big boy distractions.”

Peter glared at her and silently fumed, refraining from throwing his second crayon at the woman. ‘Big boy distracts?” Please.

Carly was still looking at Peter as though he had just done the most insane and risky thing ever: talking back.

“What?” Peter snapped at her, and she looked away. Most of the other kids had gotten up and abandoned their coloring, opting for more fun toys. He and Carly, and two other older kids, were the only ones remaining. Everyone else was running around and noisily playing. Peter wasn’t about to join them. How demeaning. Was everyone else okay with being treated this way?

Carly was looking at him again. She had big brown eyes and dark skin, with a friz of dark brown curly hair. She wore a pink shirt that said ‘Princess’ across the front. When he raised his eyebrow at her, she scooted closer and whispered to him, as though they were sharing a secret, “You’re allowed to have a phone?! Mom took mine from me. She says they’re just for big kids.”

Peter looked at her, shocked. Tony wasn’t going to take away his phone was he? He needed that. No, Tony wouldn’t do that to him. Would he?

Carly turned out to be a right chatterbox, and kept asking Peter questions. Not like it mattered though, because she didn’t stop talking long enough for him to answer. So he kept coloring and let her chatter. 

Eventually, Peter got tired of coloring. He thought about asking Carly if she wanted to play legos with him, but she was still talking, so Peter just stood up and walked over to the shelf with the box of legos. Carly followed, still talking.

He looked at the box of legos. It was kind of high up. He got up on his tip toes and reached out a hand as high as he could reach. However, he never got a chance to grab the box. Another Little had materialized behind him and gotten it for him. He looked at her. It was Kelly, one of the older girls, headspace at about six years old. 

She handed him the box after opening it for him. “Um, thanks.” Peter said.

He walked over to the carpet and sat down, Carly sitting next to him shortly after. He began digging though the box, finding pieces to make a car. Kelly sat down next to him and asked, “Watcha making?”

“A car.”

“Okay, let me help you.” She pushed Peters hand away from the box and started pulling out pieces for him. Then, she took the car fro Peter’s hand, and continued building it for him.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you. Cuz you're only two. And you looked like you was having trouble putting the pieces together. So I’m helping you cuz you’re just a baby.”

Peter huffed angrily, and then leaned forward and snatched the car back, “I’m not a baby! I don’t need help.”

“Yeah you do. And you are a baby. See?” She said, pointing at Peter’s pin. Carly ignored them both, now talking to herself as she stuck legos together haphazardly.

Peter was really getting annoyed with this girl now. Who did she think she was, calling him a baby?!

“Nuh-uh.” He retorted, clutching his lego structure to his chest.

“Yeah you are. But that’s okay if you don’t know it, ‘cuz your only Little still.”

Okay, she was going too far. Peter felt tears prick at his eyes, and he told her, “You’re mean!”

“No I’m not! I’m just helping you! And you’re a baby, you’re even wearing a pull-up, cuz you pee your pants!”

That was it. “I do NOT! I’m not a baby! And you are mean! Go ‘way!” He threw his car at her with all his might, anger and frustration taking over. Tears poured out of his eyes. To his disappointment, the car missed Kelly and just hit the ground next to her instead, shattering. Carly had stopped talking to herself, and now voiced, “Uh-oh. Kelly made Petery cwy.”

Peter wiped at his face, tears now flowing beyond his control. He didn’t want to cry! But he couldn’t help it. Kelly was being mean, and he was being treated like he couldn’t do anything, and now his car was broken!

Miss Rita was by his side now, and she bent down to pick him up. Naturally, Peter found himself curling into her chest as he sobbed.

Kelly was looking up at Miss Rita, looking confused. “I was only trying to help.”

Miss Rita sighed and said, “I know Kelly, don’t worry. Peter’s just sad because he’s having trouble adjusting. Remember, he doesn’t have as much control over his emotions as you, so you have to be careful what you say, okay? It might make him really upset.”

Kelly nodded, still kind of confused, and went back to playing. Miss Rita carried Peter away from the other kids, some of which had topped playing to stare at him. Peter was still sobbing uncontrollably. Why couldn’t he stop crying? How embarrassing.

As Peter kept wailing his sorrows, Miss Rita walked over to a desk and pulled open a drawer. From it, she took an unopened package of pacifiers. She ripped it open, took one out, and then walked with Peter over to a rocking chair in the corner. There, they sat and she gently pulled one of Peter’s hands away from his face, where he held it so he could suck his thumb. 

When had that gotten there, Peter thought, confused. He whined, however, feeling insecure in its absence.

“I know, sweetheart,” Miss Rita cooed, pressing the pacifier into Peter’s mouth. He took to it instantly, suckling it on instinct.

“There isn’t that better,” she said, cooing again as Peter cuddled closer to her, trying to sooth himself. 

After a few minutes, Peter calmed down enough to sit up. Miss Rita took this as her cue to say, “Hey buddy, all better? Want to go back to playing?”

Peter looked at the other kids, hesitating for a moment. But they all looked like they were having so much fun… Peter frowned. No, he’s not supposed to want to play. That’s for babies. He sucked at his pacifier, unsure. Then, Carly looked up and shyly waved at him, a small smile on her face. Peter nodded to Miss Rita. He pointed at Carly and hummed. He liked Carly. He wanted to go play with her. Miss Rita lifted him up and took him over to her, depositing him on the carpet next to Carly, who was now playing with two Barbie Dolls. She handed a doll to Peter and smiled when he took it. Instantly, Carly started talking to him again, going on about how pink was her favorite color and that's why he had the Barbie in the pink dress. Peter hummed, acknowledging that he was listening to her, and looked down at his own Barbie. She had dark curly hair, just like Carly’s. He stroked it with his hand, feeling its fascinating texture. He liked Carly, he decided. That’s why he had the Barbie with the curly hair.

He looked up at Carly and smiled around his pacifier, glad to have made a good friend.


	20. Chapter 20

Peter walked into the physics classroom feeling awkward as everyone stared at him for walking in during the middle of class. He and some kid named Tanner were the only Littles in this class, and Tanner hadn’t arrived yet, singling Peter out for everyone to direct their attention to.

Ms. Warren stood at the front of the class and paused so she could welcome Peter to the class, “Hello, Peter, how was your first class? I see they already have you settling in with your new classification.”

Peter frowned. What did she mean by that? At that moment, Tanner walked in behind him. He was about four years old in headspace, but right now seemed to be his fully grown self. “Hey everyone!” He announced himself, “Did ya miss me?”

Tanner had always been class clown. Nice to see he still held that role. Peter felt as though, personally, everyone looked at him like he was a completely different person. Although, he supposed, perhaps that was simply because he had never let anyone know the full extent of who he was, what with having an alter ego and such. All the same, he found himself wishing he could be more like tanner, and slip into his new life with grace and ease.

Ms. Warren rolled her eyes at Tanner’s usual antics as everyone sniggered, “Yes, Tanner, as always. Now why don’t you and Peter go find yourselves a seat at the back table? I’ll wrap up with the other students and let them start their projects, and then be right over to spend time with you.”

Tanner happily strutted over to the back of the room, as though he was completely used to this routine. After a moment of hesitation, Peter followed. However, as he made his way down the aisle between desks, a foot shot out and caught him round the shins, sending him sprawling. 

Tears pricked his eyes as he picked himself up. _No. I can’t cry. Not here. I’m not a baby, I won’t behave like one._

Peter noticed as he stood that his pacifier was missing from his mouth. He had forgotten about it, but in its absence, found himself to miss it tremendously. Oh, he thought, That’s probably what Ms. Warren had been referring to earlier. He felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. He turned, determined to see who had tripped him, fed up with the humiliation he had already suffered in this class. 

There, looking at Peter with a shit-eating grin, was one of Flash’s goons. Peter couldn’t for the life of him recall this kid’s name. He looked at his badge, and was unsurprised to see that he had Alpha tendencies, even if he was just a neutral. _Great, not only is he gonna want to prove himself top dog over me, but he also knows that I disrespected his leader and got a restraining order against Flash. He’s gonna kill me in Flash’s stead._

He watched as the kid bent down to retrieve a colored plastic item from the floor, and wave it tauntingly in front of him. Peter reached out to grab it, but was angered to find it jerked out of his reach. The kid laughed, “Baby can’t reach?”

Peter felt anger burn inside him, and tears burn his eyes. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Luckily for him however, he didn’t have to. Ms. Warren was walking toward them, questioning look painted onto her face. She obviously hadn’t seen Peter fall down, but knew something had happened regardless.

“What happened here, sweetie?” She directed at Peter, whose bottom lip wobbled dangerously. Not trusting himself to speak without breaking into tears, Peter raised his hand to point at the kid, hoping she would understand.

She turned to the culprit. “Darren?” She asked, wanting his explanation.

“Oh, Ms. Warren, Peter fell down and lost his pacifier. I was just making sure he was okay and returning it to him,” Darren said, an act of innocence.

Peter huffed in indignation, “NO!” he said, before tears rolled down his face. How embarrassing. He hated today. It wasn’t going at all how he wanted.

Ms. Warren didn’t quite pick up what Peter was laying down. She took the pacifier from Darren and took Peter by the hand, “It’s okay sweetie. Did you fall down? I bet that hurt a bit, huh? Well I think you’re really brave. Tell you what, you just sit down here with Tanner, and I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go and quickly rinse your paci for you. How’s that sound?”

It was probably the best deal he was going to get. Sitting down, Peter nodded his answer back to her miserably. Next to him, Tanner happily doodled on his notebook, waiting for their lesson to start. 

Peter had never really been friends with or even talked with Tanner before. Being the nerd he was, Peter had mostly kept to himself and his best friend Ned. However, Tanner had never bullied him the way Flash had, so Peter supposed he must be a nice guy.

“Um, hi,” Peter said shyly, hoping to start a conversation.

“And howdy-do to you too.”

Um, what? Peter didn’t know how to respond to that. He sat back in his chair and stared at the table silently instead.

Tanner continued doodling, unfazed.

A couple of moments later, Ms. Warren arrived, and held out the paci to Peter, who gratefully took it from her hands. He sucked at it anxiously, not really caring who saw. He needed it to stay calm right now.

Ms. Warren sat down and they got started on the lesson of the day. Peter tried to lose himself in it, so as to avoid thinking about Darren, who sat just four seats away. Once, he stole a glance at him. Darren gave him an evil grin and winked, drawing a single finger across his throat, indicative of his inventions toward Peter.

Peter gulped and looked away, focussing his attention on his work. Yep, physics was a lot less menacing, thank-you-very-much. 

At the end of the lesson, before leaving class, Tanner stopped him and asked, “What was that guy’s issue with you? I saw him trip you.”

“I dunno. I guess he just never liked me ‘cuz Flash didn’t.”

Tanner hummed, and then said in an overly lofty voice, “Ah yes, my senses were correct, This kid is indeed, a shit-eating piece of slime. Pretty fugly too.”

Peter snorted. What was with this guy? He looked over at Tanner, who smiled back at him.

“Fugly?” he asked.

“Fuckin’ ugly,” Tanner clarified, “I doubt even his mother loves that face. Me on the other hand, well there are now words for my beauty.”

Peter laughed as Tanner mimed flipping ong imaginary hair over his shoulder.

Tanner punched his shoulder lightly as he walked past him, making his way to the door, “You watch out Peter. You’re obviously a man of many enemies,” he voiced dramatically.

Peter rolled his eyes at him. If only that wasn’t true, Tanner. If only.

…

The rest of the day went pretty well, other than a couple of incidents last block. He was a little embarrassed when he tried to attend his last block in full, insisting he didn’t need a nap. His teacher had simply looked at him as though he were being ridiculous, and perhaps a bit difficult. He then asked a student, who coincidentally happened to be Theo, whom he had met that morning, to escort him to the Little room, where he proceeded to lay on his mat and glare at the ceiling, annoyed with having to be there. After about ten minutes, however, he found himself drifting to sleep.

When he awoke, Miss Rita helped him up and folded and stowed his mat for him. He had been about to leave, when she stopped him and asked him if he had used his pull-up.

Peter’s face heated in embarrassment. “No!” he said angrily, pulling away from her. Why would she ask him that? And in front of everyone else here? How humiliating.

Miss Rita sighed and grabbed Peter’s hand pulling him back toward her, with a look on her ace that said, “Don’t be difficult, please.”

Peter looked around the room, eyeing all the other kids, who were patiently waiting to be dismissed, conversing among each other. They weren’t all in head space, but they all seemed to be getting along with each other. Carly was sitting on a table, swinging her legs, obviously still in head space, She was chatting at Tanner, who seemed mildly interested, but also fidgety, as though he had ADHD. Peter was glad none of them were paying him any mind at this moment. However, he turned back to Miss Rita and asked her a question that was burning at his mind, in the most accusatory tone he could muster, “How come you don’t ask any of them if they used their pull-up?”

Miss Rita raised a brow. “You’re the only one still in a pull-up, other than Carly. She, however, took the time to inform me right after waking whether or not she was wet. You, on the other hand, simply tried to bolt. If you’re not gonna be honest with me Peter, I’m just going to have to check your Pull-up myself. I know for a fact that you didn’t leave to use the bathroom in any of your other classes, so I find it hard to believe that it’s still dry.”

“I was being honest! I didn’t use it!” Peter argued, trying to tug away again. Miss Rita sighed, obviously exasperated. She reached for Peter’s waist band and tugged his pants down, exposing his pull-up and eliciting an indignant ‘Hey!’ from Peter.

Miss Rita pointed at his crotch with an I-told-you-so expression, “Peter, look at your pull-up. See how it looks more full? That’s because it is. Notice you can’t see any blue stripes on them? That’s because those indicate when you’re wet. When they disappear, that’s when you need a change.”

Peter looked down at the pull-up and realized she was right. How had that happened? When had it happened? Peter didn’t like it. He had wet himself without even realizing. Like a pathetic baby. He whined, and pulled at the offending material, trying to get it off himself. His fingers weren’t cooperating. Frustrated, he stomped his foot and looked at Miss Rita helplessly, unsure what to do.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and let me change you Peter?” Miss Rita asked.

Peter nodded, just wanting to be free of the pullup, which now felt cold and icky against his skin. 

Miss Rita nodde, obviously relieved that he wasn’t putting up a fight. She picked him up and settled him on her hip, making Peter squirm as the pull-up squished uncomfortably into him. 

“I know, sweetheart, but I’m gonna make it all better, okay? Just a quick change and then it’ll be about time to let you go to class. How’s that sound?”

Peter nodded, sucking on his pacifier. Miss Rita laid him down on a changing table and changed him quickly, trying to spare him any embarrassment. It didn’t work, and Peter hid his face behind his hands the entire time.

Soon enough, though, he was dressed and on his way out the door. He left as quickly as he could, not wanting to stay a moment longer.

…

That night, after patrolling until five o’clock, Peter crossed Wilson Lima Street and entered the coffee shop where he was meant to meet the man who’d texted him. After ordering a mocha, he sat down at a vacant table and waited for his mysterious ‘date’ to show. Within a few minutes, a man whom Peter had never met before sat down across from him. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has been waiting to meet you for a long time now,” were the first things out of the man’s mouth.

…

Across the street a slimy man sat in a beat-up white 1990 Buick LeSabre.

He lifted his camera and snapped one, two, three, photos of peter entering the shop and getting in line for coffee. What was he doing walking around New York unsupervised? And getting coffee? Such unhealthy eating habits for a Little. For Stark to allow this was just more evidence of his inadequacy for such a role as caregiver. Peter deserved better.

He snapped another photo. Peter sitting down. Then another. Peter taking a drink. Then a man sat down across from the kid. Snap. Another photo. Peter shouldn’t be out talking to strangers. Clearly, he would have to step in soon.

Snap! He clicked the camera again, before pulling back to look at the masterpiece he had taken.

What a beautiful little boy.

Soon to be his little boy.


	21. Chapter 21

Peter stared at the man who sat across from him. He was tall. Like way too tall. Peter couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the man’s stature alone, and had to remind himself that he was in fact a superhero, and had a variety of powers he could rely on, as well as a suit full of further defensive measures.

All the same, Peter wondered if he maybe should have told Tony he was going to be here.

_No. Don’t be weak minded, Peter. You came here alone for a reason. You’re a responsible hero. You, as Spider-Man, can confront your Spider-Man related problems without Tony holding your hand._

The man across from him was saying something. Peter refocused his attention on him. Oh. An introduction.

“Hi, Peter. Now, we both know who you are, boh in spandex and out. However, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of officially introducing myself! After all, I had to be rather minimal in my messages to you before. Can’t have any secrets leaking out, am I right?” The man smiled at Peter, and Peter couldn’t help but smile back. This guy was really friendly! And the way he talked just gave off a positive energy. What had Peter been worried about? He didn’t need Tony here, this guy could hardly be a threat!

“My name is Micheal Mckartney, Agent Micheal Mckartney. Feel free to simply address me by my last name. As you know, I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. I was assigned to Spider-Man's case when you first started out, and let me tell you, I never would have guessed your identity back then! Boy are you illusive. If it weren’t for that test you had to take, I wouldn’t have ever found you.”

The man was still smiling. Peter blushed under his gaze. Was that a complement to him? Evasion of S.H.I.E.L.D. Weird talent to have.

Mckartney leaned forward, “Now, while I have an arsenal of questions to ask you, as I really am quite a fan of yours, I’m afraid we can’t speak here.”

Peter put his mocha down. “Um, why not?”

“Same reason I couldn’t simply relay tons of information to you over text. We need to go someplace less open Peter. This was simply the meeting place so that I could arrange for your transportation.”

“My transportation? To where?” How had this gotten out of hand so fast. Peter couldn’t just go somewhere with this guy. That would be as dangerous as getting into a mysterious white van, chasing the allure of candy or a lost puppy. 

Peter shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m leaving.”

Peter stood up to go, but suddenly found the room spinning around him. A horrible nausea overtook him, and forced him back into his seat. He felt floppy and weightless.

“What?” he muttered. Mckartney swam in his vision in front of him. 

“Sorry, buddy, I really am. But we knew that was going to be your answer. And, due to your enhancements, certain restraining measures were needed in case you threw a tantrum. It’s alright kiddo, just breathe. The dizziness is just a side effect. It’s just a highly potent muscle relaxant that your metabolism will take a little longer to burn though. Just sit still, you’ll feel better.”

Peter whined and shook his head. No! What was happening?! How had this happened? He caught a whiff of the steam still rising from his mocha and looked down. The swirling brown liquid taunted him, making him more dizzy. Of course. He’d been drugged. He should have known S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t be okay with simply talking to him. If only he’d told Tony How stupid! But when had he slipped the drug in? The man hadn’t gotten here until after he had…. The only time Peter hadn’t been watching his drink was when it was still being made… So that meant that…

Peter turned his head, best as he could. His muscles weren’t quite responding, so it was more of a lolling roll. He looked across the room, to where the counter was. The barista who’d helped him caught his eye and smiled. She winked, before leaving her station at the register and walking over to Peter’s table. She pulled up a chair and took off her hat, letting down long black hair. Her eyes were beetle black, and when she smiled, her teeth looked viciously pointy.

“Hi, Peter, sweetheart. I’m Mckartney’s partner. My name is Agent Hitokuchi Doku. I'm the brawn of this operation, and Micheal over there is the brains. Hate to introduce myself this way, but it was a necessary measure. I’m something of an expert in poison. In fact, the drug your heart is currently pumping through your veins is a modified version of my own venom. The only difference is, my venom would kill you.” She smiled again, her pointy teeth on display. Her venom? What did she mean by that?

Peter whimpered again, looking back to Mckartney. He may have been in on this plan, but he was obviously the lesser of two evils. He seemed to genuinely not have wanted to drug Peter. Maybe he could try and pry at that chink in his armour. It must have been a personal weakness of the Agent. If Peter had any hope now, it would be through manipulation. He was NOT going to go with these people.

Mckartney sighed, and looked at his partner, saying, “Cut it out, Doku, you’re scaring him. He may have spider powers like you, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a Little. You’re an Alpha, remember, and your approach is way too strong.”

Peter sat, unable to over, watching the interaction. So they obviously thought pretty low of him. Just an overpowered baby, huh? He wondered how he’d be able to use that.

Mckartney looked back at Peter, expression softening. “I really am sorry about this, bud. But S.H.I.E.L.D. has to assess whether or not you’re a danger to yourself or others. We just need to have you for an interview. Okay? I promise we won’t hurt you.”

The man then checked his phone, and then announced, “Looks like our ride’s here. I’ll take Peter, Doku, you just get rid of that mocha. Don’t leave toxins lying around. Meet you at the car.”

Doku stood up and grabbed Peter’s cup, walking away. Mckartney stood, more slowly, and approached Peter. 

He kneeled in front of him, “I know this is scary. I’m sorry. But hey, there’s no need for tears. I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll be there the whole time with you, alright? And we’ll bring you home to your daddy within a couple of hours. We have a couple of agents with him, as well.”

Tears? When did those appear? Peter sniffed, feeling a sob bubble up from his chest. He clamped his mouth closed. He wasn’t about to cry in front of this man. Not any more than he already had. Wait, Daddy? They had agents with Tony?! Shit, there goes his resolve. The sob escaped him as Mckartney picked him up to bring him outside to the car. It was hopeless. Peter didn’t know what to do. Why hadn’t he been more careful?!

Mckarntey wrapped his arms around Peter in a warm embrace and cooed at him, “Shhhh, little boy, it’s all okay.”

Peter would have given anything just then to be able to thrash and kick and fight against that man, but instead he had no choice but to accept the offered comfort. He hated it, but the embrace as he was carried was soothing, as well as the man’s words, which he knew were less for his comfort, and more to prevent him from making too much of a scene. His crying did alert other customers, but Peter watched in despair as they simply glanced at him, and then looked away, presuming him to be nothing but a fussy Little. Another sob escaped him, and Mckartney responded, annoyingly receptive, with a soothing hand run up and down his back. A paci had been popped into his mouth, and Peter was mortified that he naturally accepted it. He buried his head into the agent’s shoulder, ashamed with himself for his failure to avoid this situation. 

Soon enough, they were out of the coffee shop and next to a black nondescript car parked on the side of the road. In the front, sat a driver, eyes front. Next to the car stood Doku, with her long, shiny black hair fluttering in the wind. She opened the door for the other agent, making him able to set Peter down in the car. He fiddled with some straps which he pulled tight across Peter’s chest. 

When he finished, he looked Peter in the eye, and lifted a hand to wipe away a tear. “You remind me of my own Little. I’m sorry I made you cry, really. It breaks my heart. Now, for the next bit here, for this drive, I’m riding up front. You’ll have Doku to keep you company. Don’t be afraid of her, okay? She’s really not that scary. I promise. She’s actually a mutant, just like you.”

With that, Mckartney was gone, closing the car door behind him. _Don’t be afraid?! How can I not be afraid? This psycho lady has pitch black demon eyes and fangs! Oh, and she specializes in venom. How am I meant to not be terrified? Your kidnapping me_!

The door on the other side of the car opened, and the woman slid in. Peter eyed her warily. He silently panicked, but opted to stay frozen in fear, knowing that physically, that was actually all he really was able to do. 

She smiled at him again, and Peter eyed up those needle-sharp teeth. If it weren’t for those teeth, she would have been drop dead gorgeous, even with her demon-like eyes.

She leaned forward and tugged at one of the straps securing Peter into the… He looked down...Car seat?! Peter had been too distracted before to notice.

“Aren’t you just snug as a bug in a rug?” She asked, booping him on the nose. Peter huffed in indignation. The woman laughed as Peter weakly attempted to struggle out of the seat, upset at having to ride in it. Doku tutted, and then chied him, “No, no, sweetheart. You need to ride in the seat. It’s a safety precaution recommended for Littles your age, so that you don’t unbuckle yourself or endanger yourself in any other way. And even if you were at your full strength, these straps here are made to contain your strength regardless. You can thank Mr. Science Nerd up front for that. He provided the specs for the development of those restraints, based on his observations of you.”

She turned to the front of the vehicle. “Okay, we’re all set to go.”

The car began to pull away from the curb, and Doku looked at him, saying, “Why the long face, kiddo? We’re gonna have fun!”

Peter directed his eyes to look out his window instead. As they turned into the traffic, a flash of light caught his eye. He felt his spider sense tingle as he saw a man, sitting in a white acr, lower a camera. His eyes seemed to catch Peter’s for a moment. Who was he…? 

Peter felt a spark of hope. Whomever this mysterious stranger was, he might just be Peter’s saving grace. Out of pure luck, had someone caught Peter’s kidnapping on camera? Would he be the one to help him?

Peter kept his eyes on the car for as long as he could as they drew away from him, seeing the flash go off one last time before they turned a corner.


	22. Chapter 22

Tony sat at his kitchen table, staring at the two agents sitting across from him. Of course, he had presumed that S.H.I.E.L.D. would catch up to him eventually, and figure out Peter’s whole ordeal, but he had hoped it would take a little while longer. Peter was still trying to settle into his new life, they were both still adjusting. It had barely been four days since Peter found out about his Classification, four days since the Friday he got his results. Tony hadn’t even had time to take Peter out shopping for Little necessities, which he’d been hoping to do either today or tomorrow.

Ah well, some things couldn’t be helped. He’d just have to deal with this as best as possible, and hope it goes over smoothly.

Agents Phil Coulson and Natasha Romanov sat across from him, both familiar faces, most likely hand chosen by Fury to appear as a more friendly front, in a hope to appeal to Tony’s trust. Tony snorted. Please, as though he weren’t smart enough to see right through that. The Agents, although generally on friendly terms with Tony, were here on business and not of their own accord. Therefore, they weren’t here to be trusted. Tony didn’t trust Fury as far as he could throw, especially when it came to the safety, livelihood, and happiness of his kid.

Phil was speaking, “Look, Tony, I’m not gonna lie. We’re not here for coffee and a chit chat, which I’m sure you’ve already surmised. However, we cannot sit back and allow you and Peter to operate unsupervised without further information gathered on you two, especially with Peter’s classification coming to light. You do understand the can of worms this opens, right?”

“I understand the certain legal difficulties, as well as the moral questions our situation digs up, yes. However, you’ll have to kindly note that Peter’s mutation can’t be undone, and his work as Spider-Man is important to him and the city. His legal guardian is one hundred percent aware of the circumstances, and we’ve agreed that I would be the best caretaker for Peter. As a Little he may need special care, but that does not impede his abilities as a superhero. And allowing him to be such a hero is in no way abuse, as it’s by his own choice.”

Natasha spoke up, “Tony, you can’t expect us to simply sit back and let this play out. Peter’s powers are like a loaded weapon. And that weapon is currently being wielded by a toddler. One tantrum, and there could be a crisis on our hands. We’re the ones who would have to deal with the aftermath, and we would much prefer to deal with the cause before it gets to that point.”

Phil took over for her, “In addition to the fact that Peter is dangerous to society, we believe that he is dangerous to himself. Hero work is meant for adults, not teens and especially not Littles. It’s abusive to allow him to continue down a destructive road such as this one. Even if he doesn’t get injured on the job, the stress of it is enormously unhealthy for a Little, and could make him sick, possibly to the point of death.”

Tony sighed. They weren’t going to understand. To them, from every legal point of view, Tony was in the wrong, even if it’s what was best for Peter.

Phil continued, “We understand that Littles are perfectly capable of taking up adult tasks, but that’s a controversial topic that many don’t agree on. In order to allow him to continue his hero work, we’d need proof that Peter is mentally capable of doing that, and without injury to his own health. We also need proof that you, as a caretaker, would be able to handle a Little of such power. Of course, being a superhero yourself, it would be much easier than any average citizen, but all the same. Your history doesn’t exactly work in your favor.”

“My history?” Oh, boy. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. Fury loved digging into ol wounds. It was the ultimate attack against Tony, who, after all, had a past riddled with old wounds to dig into.

Natasha spoke up, leaning forward, “Yes Tony, your past. It’s filled with a hundred and one reasons for you not to have a little, especially not one like Peter. For starters, alcoholism. You’re a sucker for that poison, and you can’t have such behavior with Peter. Not to mention your reckless tendencies, and your own life as a hero which always puts your life at risk. You’re a busy man Tony, what if you can’t be there for Peter when it matters most? What if your failure as a parent will lead to the biggest hero disasters of all time? S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t feel that it can trust you to keep such a risk in check.”

Tony looked down at his hands. She wasn’t wrong. He had demons to speak of for miles. And they didn’t always stay in the past, where they belong. Was it only a matter of time before one comes back to haunt him? To destroy all the good in his life? How long before Tony messe up and screws up everything for Peter?

Would he be the biggest danger to his own kid?

Phil put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, “We just want to check up on everything, to determine whether or not Peter can handle himself, and whether or not you can keep both him and yourself in check. We would need a mental evaluation of you both. There are several paths we could take from there. We could assign you a supervisor. The one we’ve chosen isn’t an agent, technically, but they have the powers and abilities needed to match Peter’s own, so as to keep him in check if need be. You, despite having your suit of armour, are still an average human, despite your intellect. You’re lacking in that area. Best case scenario, we’d allow you to continue, with check-ups monthly. It’s possible your supervisor could become a permanent fixture, if we see fit.”

Tony weighed this in his head. “I guess that’s not so bad. I wouldn’t like it, but I could deal with it. I just want to do right by Peter.”

Phil nodded. “I know you do. However, there’s still a worst case scenario. In which we apprehend Peter, and take him in for “Specialized care.” He’d be surrounded by Little professionals, as well as people prepared to deal with his power-level. He wouldn't be allowed to continue hero work. But he would be safe. We can guarantee that much. This is only, however, if you cooperate. If you and Peter resist, and force becomes necessary, we can’t promise either your safety or his”

Tony glared. Was that a threat? He wasn’t about to just roll over, not if they were going to threaten Peter.

“Don’t threaten me. I don’t care if you think I’m in no position to be saying so, but I will make it my goal to make your life hell if you dare threaten me or my kid again.”

Natasha snorted, “It’s not that we think you’re in no position, Tony, it’s that we know you are. You don’t, even now know the full weight we have dangling over your head. We knew you wouldn’t take kindly to this, so we’ve taken the liberty of taking Peter in for his evaluation before we get to yours.”

Tony stood up, enraged, “You have Peter?! What gives you the right?!”

“Everything we just told you. He’s a danger to himself and others”

Tony slammed a hand down on the table, making it rattle. The agents stared back at him, unflinching. “Even so,” Tony said, “You have no right to take him! You have no right to pull him off the streets without even making it known to his caretaker!”

Phil sighed, seemingly wearied of the conversation. “Actually, Tony, that’s where you’re wrong. We do have the right. We have proof that he could be a danger to civilians, and a witness. Now, these people don’t quite understand the case they’ve walked into, all they know is that their son was the victim of Peter’s emotional toil, which reflects on his mental instability and your incapacity to care for Peter.”

“A danger to civilians? Victim? Witness? What on earth are you talking about?”

Natasha pulled a couple of photos from a file in front of her. She slid them across to Tony, putting them directly in his line of sight. “Yes. Victim, here. Witness, here. Both students attend Peter’s highschool. According to the witness, Peter’s always been a subject of bullies, constantly being picked on. The witness said his friend put out a careless remark about Peter’s classification, causing a large amount of upset from the Little. According to the victim and witness, Peter lashed out and attacked them both. They said his strength surprised them, because he was a Little, but Peter was able to cause damage. Now, obviously they don’t understand the true extent of Peter’s strength, or the fact that they were lucky not to have been killed. Regardless, the victim is the child of some rather rich and influential people. They’ve put together a case against you, and they have some of the best lawyers backing them up. Naturally, we can’t ignore this. It’s given us reason to go up against you. Solid reason.”

Tony looked down at the photos as rage boiled through his veins. One kid, he didn’t recognise, but was labeled with the name Darren Portman. The other however, was a face that was burnt into his mind from a previous encounter:

Flash Thompson.

….

Sitting in a white LeSabre sat the man with his camera. The stalker watched as two strangers took a tearful and overly-compliant Peter out to their car. He watched as the woman with the black hair slipped into the back with the boy, and the man got in the passenger seat. He ground his teeth in anger. Who were these people? Where were they taking his baby?

How could Stark allow this atrocity to happen?

His gut teemed with fury, and he raised his camera to snap a few pictures of the car as it pulled out from its space. He zoomed in on the license plate as it drew away, snapping a few more photos. As The car turned the corner, the man started his own engine, listening to the old buick cough to life. He was going to find out who these people were.

No one could take his baby. It’s time he took Peter home so the Little could get the proper care he so desperately needed.

Then he would see about dishing out what Stark and these People deserve.


	23. Chapter 23

Theo Rosenblom sat in his room at his desk, completing an assignment for his American Literature class. He’d been continually checking his email to see if he’d been chosen for the Little Attendant program at school.

He really hoped he would get chosen, but was worried that he would be one of the last choices. After all, most people who sign up to be Attendants are either caregivers, or at least have caregiver tendencies. Theo, however, was an alpha, the least likely classification to be chosen for this task. Even neutrals, betas, and omegas would be chosen over him, regardless of whether or not they possessed caregiver qualities.

But he really needed this opportunity. The extra credit was necessary for him, as he wasn’t as smart as many of the other kids in class. He had some of the worst grades.

That’s yet another reason they wouldn’t choose him.

But he loved Littles, always had. His family had actually expected him to Classify as a caregiver, and they were all surprised when he didn’t. Before his Test, Theo had been so sure that he’d be a Caregiver that he’d planned his whole future around it. He wanted to professionally work with Littles, either at an adoption agency, or perhaps an in-school setting.

But then he got his results back. He was an Alpha. At first he had thought that was wrong, it had to be, but certain events in the following days led him to rethink that fact. How could he have been so blind to his true Nature? It seemed so obvious once he had it pointed out to him. But he couldn’t help it. He just loved Littles so much! Was it so wrong of him to do so?

He’d begun to think that perhaps it was. One of the events that led him to realize that he was, in fact, truly an Alpha, was meeting that Little, Peter. The poor kid had been terrified of him. How could he work with Littles when his own biology was a natural repellent to them?

He sighed. Maybe he wasn’t meant to live the life he’d always wanted. Part of the reason Littles appealed to him, he supposed, was that it was natural for an Alpha to be possessive and protective. Did it make it wrong for him to feel that for a Little, then? He was beginning to think it was for the best that he didn’t get chosen for this program.

His mother and father were already beginning to drop hints that he should change his life path. His mother had suggested he go out for sports, to allow the aggression of them to appeal to his Alpha instincts. His father took time to point out common Alpha careers that he might enjoy, such as the Military, Police, or Fire Department. They both had come to him about therapy for him, to accept his nature, and also apologized for having prematurely promoted and supported his interest in Caregiver lifestyle, despite not yet knowing his classification. Theo thinks his parents may blame themselves for his discomfort with his Classification. They seem to think they accidentally brainwashed him.

Ugh. What a mess. He used to have his entire life planned out. He enjoyed being organized and planning ahead, but this whole year had totally thrown a wrench into that. Usually, he got average grades, due to his persistent attention in class and his tendency to put away ample time for studying. But this year, his grades had dropped. He found himself feeling unbalanced, emotionally and socially. His therapist said it was due to new Alpha hormones he had not previously experienced as a middle-schooler. Everyone else was undergoing similar changes, which messed with their societal pecking order. Theo’s old friends didn’t speak with him anymore, one of them an omega, who was now visibly intimidated by him, and the other a fellow alpha, who had become rather hot-headed and had instantly squared up with Theo, feeling threatened by his dominance. 

His phone pinged with a text, shaking him from his thoughts. It was from M.J, an Alpha girl he had met that morning.

**Check your Email. I just got mine! My little, I mean. See if you got one.**

Theo quickly clicked over to his Email, not hesitating to abandon his homework for this. Once there, his mouse hovered over the newest message in his inbox. What if it was just an apology along with a declination of his application? He shook off his doubts. It didn’t matter what it was, he had to click on it to see.

So he did. He held his breath while he read the note. Holy Shit.

Holy SHIT!

He got it! He got a Little! He was gonna be an attendant! He was gonna prove himself. He could do this. He, Theo Rosenblom, would be an Alpha who worked with Little, and he would prove it one step at a time. Starting with being a highschool Little Attendant.

His parents would think he was wasting his time. They’d probably sign him up for more frequent therapy sessions. Teho didn’t care. They could think it was unnatural and wrong all they wanted. To Theo, it was one of his biggest accomplishments. He could practically squeal with excitement.

He hurried to text M.J. back:

**OMG. They chose me! I go a Little! I thought for sure I was going to be declined.**

M.J. took no time in getting back to him, obviously excited for him:

**Who? Check at the end of the message. They give you the name of the Little you’ll be attending.**

The hurriedly scrolled to the bottom of the page, in which Attendant duties were specified. He’d read them later. Right now he was a man on a mission. There it was. The name he needed.

He texted M.J. back so fast his fingers could barely hit the right keys. 

**That cute one that got lost in our class this morning! Peter Parker!**

He was too excited. Tomorrow he’d get to meet the Little properly. He hoped Peter wouldn’t be afraid of him this time. Guess he’d just have to wait and find out.

…

Doku sat in the car, watching the boy who sat next to her. He had tearful eyes that wouldn't look at her face. She felt kind of bad about kidnapping the kid but it had been necessary. Honestly, what the hell was wrong with Stark? Letting a baby run around with a weaponized costume. Not to mention his unique abilities. It’s amazing this disaster has not unfolded yet.

Regardless, it still stung to see the kid cry. She could only hope for the best for him, now. She had orders, and she had to follow them. Hopefully, the kid would pass the interview. If not, she already knew that he would become S.H.I.E.L.D.’s property. He would be kept away from the world and dangerous situations, only let out with supervision. She knew he would live a life in a cold, sterile environment, where he could do neither himself nor anyone else any har,. Effectively and gilded cage, or a glorified padded cell.

She shuddered, thinking of that possibility. It would be horrible. She knew, because she had grown up in that exact environment.

She laid her head back against her headrest, and drew herself back, way back, into the memory of her cold, dark beginning.

Hitokuchi Doku received her mutation via a test tube, where she herself was born. In a cold lab a small embryo was created, DNA mixed with the violent venom of the _Trichonephila Clavata,_ or the Joro Spider. The embryo, one among millions, was the only one to survive the DNA infusion, mutating into a human not only immune to said venom, but also one that could produce and defend itself through the venom. 

As the embryo grew, it was planted into a surrogate mother, a young Japanese girl whose brilliant father was the creator of this miracle baby. She couldn’t wait for the product of the scientist’s hard work. Together, she and her father would create a new race of humans, more indestructible than the last.

The embryo grew into a fetus. As it grew into the shape of a baby, the scientist noticed an irregular cocoon forming around the child. Upon testing, it was found to be spider silk, one hundred times stronger than kevlar, even stronger than the silk produced by the actual spider.

The amazing discoveries would continue after the child’s birth. But unfortunately for Doku, her birth is what would cause the sudden disdain for her life, and the large disinterest of the scientist in her development. 

At ten months of pregnancy, the cocoon around Doku had begun to dissolve, making the daughter violently ill. She was instantly rushed to be put on life support, as doctors hurriedly tried to understand what had gone wrong. To their dismay, as they viewed the infant via ultrasound, they saw it eating its way from the womb. Naturally, they rushed into an emergency C-section, to remove the monstrous child before any further damage could be done.

The scientist sat by and held his daughter’s hand as she fought for her life, desperately wanting to live to see her father’s genius creation. However, as the doctor’s drew the crying, wriggling baby from her body, her eyes were already closed, and her last breath in the midst of leaving her body. The scientist squeezed her hand as he sobbed, wishing he could bring her back to life. As he was pulled away from his daughter’s corpse, so that the doctor’s could attach a defibrillator to her in an attempt to revive her, the scientist looked at the nurse holding the crying infant. The squirming bundle in her arms taunted him. As he watched, the creature he had pulled from hell to live among men opened its eyes and viewed him, the first human for it to see in its life. Its eyes were black, like the demon it was. Its mouth hung open, teeth on display instead of the gums a new born would regularly sport.And what a wicked display. His daughter’s blood dripped from them, sliding down the infant’s chin and mingling with it’s own spit, black with the venom it had pumped into his daughter.

The venom that had killed his daughter.

The venom that he had infused into an infant’s DNA and planted in his daughter.

What had he done? What had he created? And at what price?

He wanted to kill the creature. His daughter was buried, and he took the monstrous infant home. He stared at it as it slept, not a care in the world, sleeping peacefully after it had murdered its own mother.

He raised a pillow above the sleeping baby, intent on smothering it before it could see the light of another day. However, before he could carry out his own act of vengeance, it stirred, screwing its eyes up tighter and letting out the most pitiful cry. The cry of a newborn. 

The sound carried him back in time, to the birth of his only daughter. She had sounded just like that. Weak and in need of protection. Back then, he had clung to her, unlike how he wanted to throw this infant away. And yet, his daughter had been no less deserving of this harsh treatment. For his daughter had caused the death of his wife. She too, had died in child-birth.

How could he destroy this thing? That which his daughter had died to give life to? Should he not raise it, as a token of remembrance of her, as he had done with his wife’s baby?

He dropped the pillow, his hands shaking. Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort the infant, as he had with his daughter all those years ago. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor. A sob ripped out of him, escaping like a rabid animal from a broken cage. It was his fault his wife had died, and now his fault that his daughter, the only piece of his wife left, had also died. He was responsible for their deaths, and, in likeness, for this monster he had summoned from the depths of hell. It had come and devoured his daughter. Would its existence devour him, too? If so, he would deserve it. This was his punishment to bear, his cross to carry. He listened as the infant cried, so close to him. With all his will power, he swallowed his nausea and stood back up, using the crib to support his weight. With shaking hands, he reached into the crib. He lifted the infant, and drew it to himself. He would finish this, see his experiment through to the end. After all, it was what his daughter had died expecting from him.

…

The girl grew up in his lab, never allowed out. She read books on how other children lived, but never experienced it for herself. She did not know play. She did not know friends. She did not know family. All she knew was Sir, the man who fed her, taught her of the world, ran tests on her, clothed her, and taught her why she was different. 

He read her tales, legends of the spider that made her unique. A highly colorful, strong specimen that was able to transform into a beautiful woman, who would seduce men and devour them.

She was told that this was what she was. A human-devourer. That upon her birth she had consumed her own mother.

She was taught that she was a demon, sent from hell to punish mankind for tampering with nature.

She was also taught about all of her monstrous qualities. Her eyes were jet black, unlike that of most humans, and didn’t pick up light well. They were suited to dark environments. Her hair, which grew abnormally fast, was 20% spider-silk proteins, making it one of the strongest substances known to mankind. In severe cold, she could shut down her body to a state of hibernation, to survive the cold. In such a state, her pores would produce the same silk that her hair was composed of, wrapping her in a tight cocoon that would fend off predators.

She underwent millions of tests to discover these qualities, Sir poking and prodding at her obsessively, putting her through the harshest of conditions, all the time muttering about finding some secret “worth her while.”

As years went on he became more obsessive, and her trials became more harsh, some of them nearly killing her. She grew to resent him, and his crazed mutterings. The stories he’d told her brewed in her mind. One day she decided to live up to what she’d been told she was.

When Sir had his back turned, she bared her fangs, preparing to attack her prey. She pulled a couple strands of her strong fibrous hair, and twisted the silky smooth strands together. Then, stretching the strands from hand to hand she approached the scientist from behind. Striking lightning-fast, Doku brought the strands over his head, then pulled back, drawing them taught across his neck. He gagged as she pulled them tighter. Doku smiled. It seemed he had fallen into her web. As he struggled, she opened her mouth, feeling her venom pool around her teeth. She leaned forward, and, locating his jugular, clamped down, relishing the feel of her teeth sinking through his skin. She could feel his blood pulse beneath his skin, carrying her venom through his veins. She smiled as she felt it slow, before she stopped struggling, then stopped breathing, then died. She opened her jaw, unlatching it from the man’s neck. She wiped his blood from her lips as she let his body fall to the floor of his lab. She looked down at his corpse, wondering if she should feel remorse. She had just devoured his life. As was her purpose. She shrugged. She was free now. 

Oddly enough, it didn’t feel very freeing. She simply didn’t know what to do next. She left the lab, barefoot, and wandered into the world. Eventually, word of a strange girl living in Japan reached the ears of S.H.I.E.L.D. Naturally, an agent was sent to collect her, and recruit her to their forces. 

Mckartney had been 22 when he reached her. She had been 17.

The monster opened her eyes. It had been nine years. She, a girl raised in a lab, was an escort of a child who may be doomed to suffer the same fate.

What was she doing?


	24. Chapter 24

Peter lifted his head, more alert. They had finally stopped driving, and were pulling into the parking lot of... some old bar? A sign missing a few letters read “Bottom’s Up” and an open sign flickered feebly in the grimy front window.

What were they doing here? This place looked like it had roaches or something. 

Doku reached over and unbuckled him, while Mcartney got out of the passenger side and walked around to his door. Upon having his restraints lifted, Peter tried to struggle free, but found his limbs to still not be in working order. However, he was able to move more than he had been when he first took in the drug.

Mckartney opened his door, and reached down, wrapping his arms around Peter and lifting him up. Dizziness suddenly overtook Peter at the movement, and he used his new found marginal movement capacity to wrap his limbs around Mckartney in a sad effort to steady himself. He whined as a wave of nausea hit him. Ugh, he hoped he wouldn’t puke. That would be so embarrassing. On the other hand, if he did puke, the agent was directly in the splash zone, and he would deserve what he had coming to him. Regardless, Peter did his utmost to hang onto his stomach contents for the time being.

Mckartney, when hearing his whine, slowed his movements. “Sorry buddy, forgot about how dizzy you must be feeling. Don’t worry, the wickedness will all go away soon. You can already move more, so the effects will be gone within the hour.”

Peter tried to kick him, annoyed with his sympathetic tone, but only managed a weak swing of his left foot. 

The agent thanked the driver and then began walking toward the bar’s entrance, trying to limit the jostle of his steps for Peter’s sake. Doku walked beside them, saying, “Honestly it’s a good thing that the drug hasn’t worn off yet. We don’t know the extent of your healing factor or your metabolism, so we weren’t positive it was going to work. I was honestly thinking you’d gain back mobility before we got here, and that would’ve sucked because I would’ve had to hit you up with another dose, which would’ve only made that nausea of yours worse. And we don’t want you getting sick, do we?”

She adopted a babyish tone in her last sentence, reaching out to pinch Peter’s cheek. Peter whined and pulled away, as much as he could anyway. He considered biting her for a second, but remembered the paci in his mouth. He suckled on it, trying to comfort himself. He didn’t want to lose that, not for a bite that wouldn’t have hit its mark anyway.

They walked through the bar’s front door, Doku holding the entrance open for Mckartney and Peter. She winked when he caught Peter’s eye, saying, “After you, my good sir,” in a joking manner.

The bar was dimly lit and grimy-looking. A bartender tended an empty bar, lazily wiping down the counter. Upon seeing the newcomers, he said in a bored tone, “Welcome to Bottom’s Up. What can I get you?”

Doku leaned across the bar, “We’ll be in the bottle of a bottle, thanks. Keep it covered, so no one else can crawl in?”

“Sure thing, Miss.”

He gestured over his right shoulder, to where a door awaited. They walked through it, Peter slightly surprised to see that it didn’t lead to another room, but rather what at first glance appeared to be a sort of broom closet. However, as he watched, Doku went ahead of them into a dark corner of the closet and crouched down. What was she doing? Peter couldn’t quite make out her hands in the dim light. However, there was a slight clicking sound, and then Doku stood up, lifted something in her hand.

A loud creaking noise filled the air, and Peter realized that what she was holding was the edge of a trapdoor. She opened the hatch all the way, revealing a spiral staircase that led into the darkness below. The hairs on Peter’s neck raised as his spider sense told him to not go down there at any cost.

Well, unfortunately for him, that appeared to be exactly what they were doing. He pressed himself closer to the agent as they descended into the blackness, sucking at his pacifier faster as his nerves picked up. The agent seemed to pick up on his distress, and rubbed his back in a way to sooth Peter. Peter hated himself for taking comfort in the action. 

As they walked down the stairs, each descending step dizzying for Peter, a strong smell hit Peter’s nose. Dust and...Fruit? Maybe? 

His eyes took only moments to adjust to the darkness, and Peter found himself enormously grateful for his heightened senses. They appeared to be in some sort of wine cellar. Huh. What were they doing here? Peter’s eyes glanced around, searching for trouble in the shadows, intent on finding the slightest discrepancy between the shelves. However, nothing came forth from his efforts.

But the feeling of intense apprehension and foreboding only grew, far from the ‘at rest’ he had hoped to put his nerves. 

They walked through the cellar, passing shelves and shelves of wine bottles. Eventually, they got to a back wall. Now what?

Doku hummed as she crouched down, appearing to be scouting the bottom shelf for something. _What_? Peter thought, _We didn’t come here for an actual drink, did we? Why the hell would they do that? And why would they bring me?_

Something wasn’t quite adding up. Peter’s spider sense kept telling him this place was bad. It couldn’t be just a regular wine cellar, in a regular hole-in-the-wall bar. What were they here for?

Just then, Doku’s finger seemed to find what she had been looking for. They wrapped around the neck of a bottle, but one that appeared to be empty. Peter squinted at the mouth of the bottle, which hung open without a cork. She tugged on it, making it slide about halfway out of its position, before lifting it toward the ceiling, like a lever. Peter heard a faint click and then a wiring noise. He wondered if those sounds were audible to everyone, or just himself. Now that Doku had mentioned not knowing the extent of some of his powers, Peter found himself questioning the extent of all of his powers.

Suddenly, to his left, one of the racks of wine bottles began moving, sliding sideways along the wall. As it moved, it revealed a crack of shining light, blinding after the intense darkness. It grew larger and brighter as the shelf continued to slide. After a few short seconds, the shelf stopped, revealing a doorway to a brightly lit hospital. The light burned at Peter’s eyes, seeming way too bright to be logical. He squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his head away. His spider sense screamed at him as he felt Mckartney begin to walk through the door. One in the hallway, Peter cracked his eyes, knowing he’d have to get used to the light eventually. He heard the doorway click shut behind him, the noise making him jump.

In this sudden new environment, Peter knew he was at the disadvantage. He didn’t know where he was, how large of an establishment it was, where they were going, or what they were going to do to him. Oh yeah. And he still couldn’t move. 

Footsteps approached him. Looking up and squinting through the brightness, Peter could make out two figures coming towards them from what looked like large double doors open at the end of the hallway.

The closest figure, upon reaching them, pulled something from its pocket, and then extended it hand towards Peter’s face. Peter whined and tried to turn away, making to bury his head in Mckartney’s shoulder before the stranger could touch him. Too slow. The hand reached Peter’s face, and he felt something plastic settle itself over the bridge of his nose.

Initially, at the feeling, Peter pulled his head back, recoiling, but after finding that the light in the hallway was suddenly dimmed, and that his eyes no longer burned, he relaxed enough to allow himself some rational thought.

The plastic on his face appeared to be a pair of sunglasses. Because of them, he could now see the figures before him.

One of them was a man with an eyepatch, who was leaned forward to view Peter’s reaction. Peter blinked up at him, disgruntled by the fact that he could suddenly see so easily, and that there was an angry looking guy looking at him expectantly.

The man snorted, seeing Peter’s confusion at not being harmed, but rather helped. 

“Thought you might appreciate that,” he said, before he turned to the two agents, who suddenly stood at attention before the man. Well as close as they could, anyway, seeing as Mckartney still had to carry Peter.

“Agents,” Eye-patch said, nodding to them each in turn. 

The both nodded back, both of them greeting solemnly, “Director.”

The director-guy gestured to Peter, “Really, you didn’t think about his photosensitivity?” Mckartney looked abashed, but said nothing as the man continued, “We’re not trying to detain a prisoner here, you could at least try to treat him like a human.”

_Human?! If you wanted to treat me that way, then where do you get off kidnapping me?!_

The man continued, “I mean, honestly, did you two even take into consideration his attire? Suitable for just getting off patrol as Spider-Man, yes, but not so much for relaxing after such a stressful day. Which I’m sure got a whole lot more stressful after we showed up.” He turned to Peter, “We’ll explain everything to you shortly, but first, we’ll get you better situated. Don’t want anything awkward to happen, now, do we?”

Peter frowned. What did he mean by that? But then he was moving again, as Mckartney followed a female agent, the second figure following the director, down the hall and through a door to the right. It wasn’t a large room, but it was equipped with what looked like a check up table, a desk, a hospital bed, and a set of cabinets and drawers.

Mckartney thanked the other agent, calling her “Hill,” and she departed, leaving Peter alone with the taller agent.

Mckartney moved over to the check up table, where he gently laid Peter down, supporting his head until it rested on the table. He was very conscious of Peter’s limited muscle movement, and still felt severely guilty about having had to drug him. He also felt bad after being berated by Fury. Honestly, here he was, a caretaker with his own Little, neglecting to think of Peter’s discomfort until it was too late. Mostly, he was just unaccustomed to a Little with such specialized needs. 

He walked over to one of the drawers, pulling out the supplies he needed: a diaper, cream, baby powder, and a onesie made of soft fabric that wouldn’t chafe against the Little’s skin. Everything in here was just right for Peter's size, a testament to how much consideration S.H.I.E.L.D. had put into Peter's case.

He walked back over to the kid, who lay watching him, apprehension evident in his gaze. He was sucking at his paci urgently, obviously distressed. Mckartney sighed. He hated having to do this to the kid. It would all be for Peter’s own good, but Peter obviously didn’t understand that. For some reason, this Little had been rejecting his nature as a Little, from what they could tell through their surveillance of him. His biology obviously wasn’t overcomable, however, as was evident by his behavior on multiple occasions, in which he dropped into Little-space against his will.

Peter didn’t like this, which was understandable, but what Mckartney was doing was for his own safety. He had to make sure Peter was okay, healthy, and not at risk of hurting himself or others. This was necessary.

He tugged down Peter’s pants, but stopped when he heard Peter whimper. He looked over at the Little’s face, and saw tears in his eyes. 

“Awe, Peter, it’s okay. I’m just gonna change you into a diaper. I know you don’t have any type of protection on right now, since you don’t wear anything while you’re Spider-Man. And those jeans aren’t very Little-friendly. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable, and that you don’t have any accidents. Okay?”

Peter eyed him, tears still in his eyes. He looked to be deliberating. Eventually he nodded, sniffling.

Having the go-ahead from the kid, the agent made quick work of the change, stripping Peter out of the spandex suit he wore under his clothes. It appeared rather high-tech. He folded it neatly and put it next to Peter’s other clothes. He knew the tech department would inspect it, eager to see something of Stark’s design. They would also probably be rather baffled by it, as is their tendency when it comes to something that’s Stark-grade. They’d love this new boost in technology, and they’d be sure to use it in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s future projects.

When Peter was changed and dressed, he picked the boy back up, wiping away the tears that now dripped down his face. Poor kiddo. It made his heart break to see him so upset. No matter. Agents Coulson and Romanov would be here shortly, with Stark in tow. He would be able to reassure Peter, no doubt. Of course, they’d still have to talk with Peter and assess him separately, but they would start with the group interview, so as to get them more comfortable. 

He carried Peter down a couple of halls to the room he had been told to meet everyone in. Its walls were stark white, and it contained nothing but a table surrounded by some chairs. This would serve as the interview room.

He set Peter down in a special chair for him, one that would support him while the effects of the drug wore off. He strapped him in, knowing that the restraints would be necessary against his strength when that happened. Peter had been silent the whole time, most likely wondering what was going to happen next. It would all be explained of, course, just not quite yet. As he sat down in one of the chairs beside Peter, the door to the room opened, letting in one Director Fury, followed by Agent Coulson and a worried-looking Tony Stark. Upon seeing Peter, The man’s face lit up.

“Peter,” he called out, in obvious relief, as he rushed to the kid’s side. He knelt down in front of Peter, grabbing the kids hands and leaning forward to press a kiss against Peter’s forehead. Peter was crying now, full force, and his hand feebly gripped Tony’s Tony noticed immediately Peter’s lack of strength.

“It's okay baby, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, okay?” he whispered to his Little, trying to calm him. As it was, Tony could barely control his own anger long enough to say those words to Peter. As soon as they left his mouth, he pressed one last kiss to Peter’s forehead, and then turned standing up to face Fury, anger evident on his face.

“What, in the God-damned hell, did you do to my kid?” He hissed out, ready to start a fight.

Fury sighed in annoyance. Why did people have to be so emotional? Really, it messed up the simplest of operations. He mentally prepared himself for what was about to follow.


	25. Chapter 25

He pulled his white car into a spot across from some run down bar. Just moments ago, he’d seen the strangers’ car pull into the parking lot. He picked up his camera, spying through the lense.

He zoomed in, and watched closely as the three passengers got out of the car, heading into the building. Through the large front window, he saw them speak to the bartender, and then go into….a closet?

He wasn’t sure what that was about. However, he did know from his days with Stark Industries that people who had their own driver, came from somewhere higher up. He knew that who he was dealing with wasn’t just some couple of nobodies off the street.

Speaking of personal drivers…the man focused his attention back on the car that had brought his poor baby to this ramshackle, grease-spot of a building. It was nondescript, without even a brand name or logo to be seen. However, it was visibly high-quality. This was a good car, one that wouldn’t have been cheap. The man frowned. There was no way that these people would report back to a spot as run-down as this. Could there be more to the scene than he was able to see?

Before he could think more on it, a second car pulled into the lot. It was an identical twin to the one that already sat there. He watched as two people, wearing what looked like S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms? So there were more people involved in this than he had thought, two of which held government jobs. What were they doing?

A third figure got out of the car, running a hand through his hair. No, could it be? 

He zoomed in closer, as far as the lense would allow. Sure enough, his eyes did not fool him. There in the parking lot directly across the street from him stood his old employer, a man he loathed more than anyone in the world.

Was he the one behind all of this? Had he had his own little forcibly taken from the streets of New York? But why? It didn’t make sense. 

Perhaps the kid had disobeyed by not going directly home? But even so, this would be a harsh response, and an unusual one.

No, the man decided. As much as he hated Tony Stark, that man couldn’t be the rich puppeteer behind the scenes of this. It didn’t fit together at all. And to further confirm the wrongness of the theorem, Stark looked all wrong. He appeared nervous. His suit was disheveled, and in the minutes he’d been watching, the man in the car witnessed Tony run his hands repeatedly through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

Could it be? We’re they holding the kid for ransom? What did they want from Tony? It wouldn’t have been the first time that the rich man was exploited for his knowledge, influence, or money.

The man’s thought wired a mile a minute. He couldn’t think up theories fast enough. What was he seeing? What was he missing? He needed to get closer, find out more. It was the only way he could help his poor baby.

As he watched the three people enter the building, once again talking to the bartender and walking into the closet door, he saw the first driver take his car away. The second driver was slower, probably not wanting to be seen at the same time as the other car. 

He had to move now. The driver was alone in the lot, and the nearest person was the man behind the counter inside. If he was smart about this, he could get some information without being caught. 

He dug in the center console, pulling out his 6 mm handgun, and clicking it of safety. He tucked it in his waistband, where it would be easily accessible. If things went as he planned, he wouldn’t need the gun, but it was good insurance.

He opened his door and got out, heading across the street. In his right hand he held a map, and in his left, a metal flashlight. The darkness of night had now descended upon the city, and he would need both items to make his plan work.

Once in the lit, he approached the car. He walked up to the driver side window and wrapped his knuckles on the pane. The man inside looked up, startled. He appeared to be reading some papers, holding them up to the light which spilled from the bar’s front window, bathing the front of the css as r in a dim glow. The driver rolled down the window, quickly putting his papers aside in a file folder on the passenger seat, out of reading range of the man.

“Can I help you?” The driver asked the man.

“Um, yeah. See, I’m not from this part of New York, and I really don’t know my way around the borough. Would you be able to give me some direction?” The man held up his map, clicking on his flash light and shining it down on the paper.

“Umm, sorry, but I’m no good at directions and navigating. Why don’t you go inside and ask at the bar?” The driver was trying to worm his way out, already going to close the window in an effort to prompt the stranger to leave him be.

But that wouldn’t do. No, there was no way the man would allow him to get away that easily, After all, his baby’s life hung in the balance!

He stuck his hand in through the window, stuffing the map in front of the driver’s face before he could get to the window controls, forcing the man to appease him or risk being rude and gaining further attention from this stranger who’d approached him.

“No, no, really, it should only take a minute. I’m sure anyone with any brains could find where I’m trying to go. I’m just absolutely abysmal and finding my way in new places.”

The driver sighed, taking the map and squinting at it through the semi darkness that the feeble light from the bar was fighting to ward off.

“Fine, let me take a look. Where do you need to be? And would you mind shining that light this way? It’s a bit difficult to read in this light.”

“Of course!” The man replied cheerfully. However, instead of shining the light at the map as directed, the man chose his moment to make his move. While the driver squinted down at the map, the man raised the butt of the heavy metal flashlight in his hand, before bringing it down, hard, onto the driver's skull. A sickening crack filled the air, and the man could see in the faint light the glittering of a dark liquid on the back of the driver’s head. The driver fell forward, unconscious and heavily bleeding from his head wound.

_ Perfect,  _ the man thought. He reached through the open window and hit the unlock button o. The door, giving him easy access through the passenger side of the car. The man walked around the vehicle and slid in, picking up the file so he could read it.

He looked over at the driver, making sure he was out before continuing. On the driver’s right shoulder, previously invisible to the man, was a S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol. Upon further inspection of the driver, the man saw that he was dressed in the same government uniform as the two people he’d seen accompanying Stark. So it wasn’t just that those other two happened to hold government jobs, but rather that these cars and people were S.H.I.E.L.D. What on earth did they want with Peter then? 

The man looked down at the file in his lap, which suddenly seemed a whole lot heavier than before. If these people were S.H.I.E.L.D, then this situation held a lot more weight and meaning than he had initially suspected. What about Peter could have possibly warranted such behavior from the most powerful organization in the world?

He opened the file, which had several pictures on top, both of which were labeled as Peter's classmates. Beneath it were documents reporting behavior exhibited by both Peter and Tony, as well as a couple on Spider-Man. The hero's involvement further baffled the man. However, now was not the time to get immersed in such a huge pile of intriguing information. He had been here long enough, and he didn’t want to be here when other agents discovered the drive to have been attacked. He shuffled the documents back into the file and then grabbed the whole folder, exiting the car. He would have to entrust Peter’s safety to Stark for now, as he was unequipped to storm into the bar after his baby. No, doing that would merely be impulsive and wound let accomplish anything. If he wanted his baby, he would have to be smart about it, bide his time, and gather as much intel as he could before acting.

He crossed back to his car on the other side of the street. Carefully placing the file on the passenger seat, he buckled up, started the engine, and went on his way home. He couldn’t wait to read the full contents of the file. How careless could they be? Weren’t they meant to be top notch spies? Expert secret keepers? Ah well. After all, a chain is only as strong as it’s weakest link. Must’ve been that driver. No wonder he was stuck playing taxi man, rather than holding a position of actual importance.

The man smiled. One man’s mistake is another man’s opportunity. And boy was this an opportunity he just couldn’t pass up.


	26. Chapter 26

Peter sat in the chair, crying. Movement was slowly returning to his body, but he was still weak. The restraints on the chair dig into him, and he knew that even if he did have all of his strength, it would be a chore to get out. He knew that shield had no way of knowing his full strength, though, since he’d never had a reason to use it while on patrol. For a moment, Peter’s memories flashed back to when he was trapped under a building, and had to use his brute strength to lift the entire structure. Surely they didn’t know of that strength.

He struggled feebly, cursing the fact that his body wasn’t obeying him. He sobbed, body going slack as he gave up for the time being.

He turns his eyes to Tony, who is standing over him protectively, his body angled so it’s placed between his son and the perceived threat, Fury. 

Tony was breathing heavily, visibly restraining himself from jumping at the other man and beating him senseless. Although Tony had in the past been known to be impulsive, he was wise enough now to know when to hold himself back, especially since more than his own future hung in the balance. He had to think of Peter, for whom he’d stop at nothing to protect.

“What did you DO to MY _ SON?”  _ Tony asked again, seething as he stared the other man down. He was met with a cool, unperturbed, one-eyed gaze.

“He’s fine, I assure you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, there’s a lot we need to talk about, and unlike you, Stark, I can’t just get away with blowing off all of my meetings and duties. I’m not so privileged to behave like the spoiled brat you are.”

“If I don’t mind?!” Tony asked, outraged. “You abduct my kid off the streets, drug him, restrain him, and threaten both myself and him, and you expect me to sit and be calm while we talk about how you’re going to ruin Peter’s life? That’s a load of bullshit, and you know it!”

“Maybe, but I happen to know that you’ve got quite the brain in that head of yours. We haven’t hurt the boy in any way, and we’ve seen to his needs so he isn’t too uncomfortable. The only thing truly the matter with him is the shock. We haven’t yet explained to him what’s going on. He doesn’t understand.”

Tony huffed. He gritted his teeth, still seething with rage. As much as he wanted to punch the man sitting across from him, he knew it would accomplish nothing. In fact, it would only serve to dig this hole deeper. He needed to play their game. He wouldn’t, in one night and against these odds, be able to take down an entire organization single handedly. And even if he did, it would only topple down on top of him, and take a Peter and himself down with it. No, he had to do this the right way, even if it was the slow way.

He looks over at Peter, and reaches out to squeeze his kids hand. “It’ll be okay, buddy. I promise.”

Peter whined, kicking his legs out weakly. He sniffed, and a few silent tears made their way down his cheeks. 

“Daddy,” his baby whispered tearfully, breaking Tony’s heart. Great, so Peter was fully regressed. Not surprising, seeing as he was forcibly manhandled the whole way here. Anybody would have been affected by the stress. Tony, feeling slightly guilty, wished that he wasn’t so Little right now. Partly because he didn’t want Peter to associate ending little with bad events, but also so they would be more likely to get out of this with the upper hand. As a Little, if Peter was fully regressed, it would be much harder to convince S.H.I.E.L.D. that Peter was responsible and capable enough to manage his power.

Boy was this going to be difficult.

“Can we please take him out of that chair? I know it’s there for the purpose of restraining him, but I assure you it’s not necessary. As a little, Peter is completely harmless. And even if you don’t believe me, he’s less likely to lash out if he were calm. Let me hold him. He’s scared and stressed, and I can fix that.”

Fury paused, obviously deliberating. After a moment, he nodded to the agent with him, prompting her to relieve Peter of his restraints. “Fine. We can compromise on that. After all, we want you to show us that you can handle his abilities. If he gets out of control, however, we will see it as a reflection on you. Understand?”

Tony nodded, vigorously. He just wanted to hold his baby, cuddle him until all of his sorrows evaporated. 

He watched as the agent released Peter, who now has mobility enough to raise his arms up, beckoning to Tony. As soon as the agent was out of the way, Tony spring from his seat and rushed to scoop Peter up. His baby wrapped his arms around him, strength still fleeting and limbs still dead weight for the lost part. However, Peter clings to Tony with all his might, finger sticking to Tony’s shirt as though they had to support his weight on the side of a building.

Peter’s crying again, shuddering from the force of his sobs. Tony hugs him and shushes him, telling him it’s okay. He sits back down, cuddling his baby to him. Everyone wants until Peter’s sobs calm down to muffled sniffles. Then, Fury speaks.

“Now then, that’s settled. Originally, I had planned to explain to him that we wanted to perform a mental screening, to test his mental strength as an adult, but seeing as he’s regressed it seems prudent that we would asses his nature as a toddler, and whether or not he presents a danger to himself or others. Do you agree?”

“You’re not exactly about to give me a choice, are you?”

“See? There’s that brain of your working. Always a step ahead. Mind you, you’re still. Shaving as though we’re your enemy here. You, in combination with the circumstances and that young man’s case against Peter, aren’t exactly giving us any choice in the matter either. Our hand’s been forced.”

Tony snorted. As though any of that excused their lack of conduct. And here he’d thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. was an organization that upheld society. Were they even apt enough to do so?

Tony was asked to bring Peter with him a couple of rooms down. Upon entering the room, he looked around, still holding Peter close. Fury and the accompanying agent followed in behind him.

The room appeared to be a sort of playroom. It was softly carpeted and had colorful toys in every corner, as well as a play house structure in the shape of a boat. 

Tony turned to Fury, looking at him in confusion. What did they have in store for them?

“Agent Hill here will take Peter now, just for a bit. He’ll be having a supervised “playtime” of sorts. Well watch him and his behavior and take note. You, meanwhile, can’t be in the same room. Well have to give you a mental careening to see if we can deem you fit for this kid. It’ll be very simple. Doku, one of the agents assigned to Peter’s case, will give you an interview, and then write a report on what she makes of you. That information will be compiled with what Romanov, Barton, and Coulson have all observed of you during your time together. Do you understand how this works?”

Tony nodded, but continued to hold on to Peter. “Who will be deciding whether or not Peter is able to control his powers?”

“Mckartney. The other agent assigned to his case. They’ve spent the most time analyzing Peter up until now, so I’ve judged that they will be able to make the best and most educated calls.”

Tony nodded again, swallowing the nerves that were building. He didn’t want to leave his baby with these people, especially unsupervised. But he didn’t have any other move to make. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, and then turned to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. God, he prayed he didn’t screw this up by making the wrong decision in doing this. And with that thought, he handed his baby to Agent Hill, who instantly swept Peter away, taking him to go and look at all the toys.

Peter looked back at Tony over her shoulder visibly confused, and looked for a moment as though he would begin to cry. However, the toys distracted him within moments, wiping the worry from his face. Tony sighed. He’d beat leave now. The sooner he completed his interview, the sooner he could take his baby home.

He turned and followed Fury, who stood in the doorway, beckoning him silently with one hand. Quietly, they both slipped out into the hall, where Tony was met by a peculiar looking woman. At first glance she was quite beautiful. But upon further inspection, Tony noted the black pools of night that served as eyes, as well as the pointed needles for teeth that greeted him when she smiled. Her grin sent a foreboding chill down his spine, but all the same, he returned it, giving out an air of false bravado as he said, “Well? Let’s get this show on the road.”

—————————————-

10 minutes after arrival to the base:

Agent Phil Cookson sat at his desk, rubbing his temples. His head hurt. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get headaches, not after he’d ‘died.’

It was particularly distracting today, however. He sighed, then leaned back in his chair. What was he meant to be doing right now? Oh yeah. He was going to bring in that file, and then add to it what they find today, as well as go through it for any discrepancies.

Oh wait. Where was that file? Shit. He’d left it in the car. With any luck they hadn’t left yet. He’d just have to hope the driver didn’t care enough to report his carelessness. Ugh. What a long day. 

He stood up from his desk and exited the office, making his way back down the hall, through the cellar, up the stairs, and past the bar, waving at Len, the bartender whom he happened to know personally. Len looked a little confused, but didn’t inquire where he was going.

He made his way out to the parking lot, praying the car hadn’t moved. Ah! There it was. Right where he’d last seen it. He went over to the passenger side and knocked on the window, expecting it to roll down. Nothing. He knocked again. Silence.

Why wasn’t the driver responding? He tried the door handle instead. To his surprise, the door swung open easily. He ducked down to look inside. What he saw, shocked him.

The driver lay face down by the wheel, blood pouring from a gaping wound in the back of his head, seemingly the result of blunt force trauma. Forgetting the file for the moment, Coulson immediately leapt into action, crawling across the passenger seat and reaching for the man. 

He pressed two fingers up against his pulse point, feeling for a heart beat. He waited one second, two seconds...nothing...three seconds….four….five….still nothing.

The man was dead.

He sat back, and paused to take in the scene. This was bad, very bad. Who had done this? It was obviously a direct attack against S.H.I.E.L.D, but evidently an uneducated one, otherwise they would have known better than to target a driver, someone who wasn’t privy to information. What would they have gained from this attack? There wasn’t any information here...oh wait. The file!

_ Shit.  _ Coulson looked around for the file he’d initially come to retrieve. Not a thing in sight. It was gone. _ SHIT!  _ He thought again,  _ I’ve just managed to single handedly undermine the entire organization's reputation. It was just five seconds of lack of focus, and so forgot the file. I was only away from it for ten minutes! How did this get so bad so fast?! _

He sighed, upset with himself, but resigned to follow the protocol for such a situation. Knowing that Fury and Maria Hill were busy, he called the next in line for something of this level of importance.

As the phone rang, he thought about what this catastrophe would mean for him, as an agent. He would probably be let go, or forced to retire, due to his setbacks from his gained-in-action injury. An honorable discharge, of sorts. That wasn’t what worried him, however. It was Clint. He had been Barton’s handler for years, and had grown close to the agent as any caregiver would. What would he do if he could no longer look after his Little? Who would Clint have to be with instead?

Natasha picked up. He spoke immediately, with as much purpose as possible, “Natasha. Alert an on hand clean up crew at once. And then, when he’s free, tell Fury: We have a situation that we need to deal with. Stat.”

He hung up, and swallowed down his building nerves. There was no way he could escape this situation.

Boy, was he fucked.


	27. Chapter 27

Tony sat across from Doku, answering all her questions to the best of his ability. After the last one, Doku closed the file in which she’d been taking notes, causing Tony to sigh in relief. Finally. Now he could get back to Peter.

“Can I go see my baby?”

Unfortunately, Doku didn’t seem to be on the same page as him. “Not quite,” she said, sitting back. Her black eyes fluttered as she smiled, teeth dripping with a blackish goo.

“See, I just wanted to talk to you alone, one on one, off the record. You don’t mind, do you! Of course, it’s not as though you’ll get any say in the matter.”

Tony looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s about that sweetheart of yours, Peter. Now I happen to know Director Fury very well. He will see that baby of yours as a liability no matter what.”

“What are you saying? That this is all hopeless? That the test is just for show?” Tony leaned in, incredulous and disbelieving.

“I’m saying that if you want any chance of getting what you want, your best bet is on me. I can get you the best deal.”

“Why would I trust you? I would rather take my chances with the corrupt agency, thanks. After all, you’re a well-known murderer.”

“I prefer ‘trained killer’, thanks. How do you even know that? Actually, never mind. Natasha told me you once hacked out DATAbase right in front of Fury. Ballad. I respect that.”

Tony snorted, “Get to the point. What do you mean?”

“Well, as I said, I know Fury. I also happen to know Mckartney, the agent assessing Peter right now. He has a Little if his own and will be sympathetic to Peter's case. However, he’ll also be concerned for Peter’s safety. Therefore, he won’t in good conscience be able to allow you and Peter to leave here unhindered. He will likely side with Fury and push to take Peter off your hands purely because he is blinded by his own heart. He’ll think he’s doing what’s right.”

“Okay?”

“So, as you already surmised, you have no chance of achieving the best case scenario against the agency, especially since you still have that case against Peter’s violent tendencies to think about. If you want assistance in that matter, you’ll have to kiss up to Fury. We could make that go away in a heartbeat. Or you could piss Fury off and he’ll use it to his advantage to take Peter off your hands.”

“And where do you come into all of this? As my almighty savior, man with a plan?”

“Well, all I do is fanagle the situation in which your are allowed to keep Peter, and he’s allowed to continue hero work, but you both need to be under advanced supervision.”

“That sounds like a deal I would regret later. But that aside, why on earth would you even bother with that? What benefit do you reap by making sure Peter isn’t taken away from me?”

“To be honest, he’s just a real cutie. But mostly, I can’t stand the thought of someone be impriaoned in a lab environemnt for their entire life. I joined this agency so I could help society, and have an acceptable use for my mutation. If I allow this to happen, I will be just as blood thirsty and horrible as I was when Mckartney first found me.”

“So it’s all out of the goodness of your heart? Yeah, right.”

Doku adopted an afronted look, before saying, “Fine, you don’t have to believe me, just know that that’s all the info I’m going to provide on my motives. And what are you implying? That I can’t act out of the goodness of my heart?”

She placed a hand to her chest, faking mock-hurt at Tony’s words.

“Fine. I’ll trust you. How are you going to help us?”

Doku smirked, “Well you know how you asked if I was your man with a plan? You’re not quite off the mark there. Except I’m not the man you’re looking for. He’s a little more star spangled than I am.”

Tony furrowed his brow. Why’d she have to be so cryptic? Was she talking about who he thought she was talking about…?

————————————————

Peter was happily playing on the carpet with various avengers plushies, having forgotten entirely about why he had been so upset earlier. He sucked ar the pacifier that was now in his mouth, vaguely wondering when it had gotten there.

He was making Iron Man and Captain America save the city of legos from the evil monstrous teddy bear. First, he carefully built the legos up, which he noticed made several of the agents in the room write on their clip boards. Mckartney was being really nice and playing with him. He got to be the Barbie in distress, and made her have a really goofy voice that made Peter laugh uncontrollably.

After building everything, with a little help from Mckartney, Peter got the teddy bear and ransacked the village, toppling the duplo buildings while making little “grrrrs” and “rawrs.”

Everything was going well, and Peter was making a good impression. He showed high intelligence even whole regressed, and appeared to be entirely harmless, just like any oh there Little.

However, that didn’t last long, for all good things come to an end. 

First, Peter decided that he really wanted to be good friends with Mckartney. The man obviously liked superheroes too, because that’s what they were playing together. So what better way to make friends than to show off his super cool peers? There’s no way Mckartney wouldn’t want to be friends with him then! It was a fail proof plan.

Peter stood up from where he sat next to his decimated LEGO city, gently putting down his two avengers plushies. He turned to Mckartney, and whispered to him so that the other boring agents wouldn’t hear his secret.

“Hey, did you know that I’m really cool like the Avengers? I have superpowers too!”

The last bit was exclaimed with a large amount of volume, completely ruining the whole point of whispering.

Mckartney laughed, “Is that so? I bet you are really cool then, aren’t you?”

Peter nodded vigorously, He smiled, pleased with himself for having impressed his new friend. Well, he could do better than that. Mckartney had better prepare to be amazed!

“Watch me!” Peter cried, excitedly lifting his arms and then sprinting to the wall so he could show off his sticky spider abilities.

Mckartney stood up, suddenly apprehensive. “Ummm, no I don’t think that’s a good idea, buddy. Why don’t you come back and play Avengers with me some more?”

Peter pauses for a moment, looking over his shoulder. Why wasn’t he excited? Didn’t Mckartney want to see his powers? Maybe he just didn’t believe Peter. That’s okay Peter would prove that he was a superhero! He smiled, and repeated his earlier words, “Watch me!”

Mckartney reaches out to Peter to try and take a hold of his hand and guide him back to the LEGO village. However, he had moved too slowly. Peter was already moving, leaping towards the wall and clumsily sticking to it, hands slipping for a moment as his Little dexterity tried to imitate what he could do while he wasn’t regressed. He giggled. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled at a slightly worried an maybe even scared looking Mckartney. “See? Powers!”

Mckartney swallowed. How did he explain to Peter that using his powers right now was dangerous?

“Peter, buddy, please come down. You’re not going to be able to control how well you stick to objects while you’re this young. You could get hurt.”

Peter looked at Mckartney, breifly, before climbing higher and making his way to the ceiling, his hands and feet only slipping two or three times.

“I’m a super hero!” He cried out triumphantly to Mckartney, who had run forward to stand beneath Peter, face now pale with fear for Peter. 

“I can do anything! See!”

Peter thought Mckartney was being stupid. He was Spider-Man, he knew how to use his powers just fine! It’s not like he’d just fall or something. As long as he payed attention to his hands, then he wouldn’t let go. It was easy!

Peter planted his feet on the ceiling and held on before carefully letting go with his hands, lowering himself until he appeared to be standing upside down.

Peter grinned down looking at all the agents who were suddenly swarming beneath him, arguing over how the deal with the situation. “Look!” He said, trying to impress them, “I can walk upside down!”

The agents below him all gasped in unison as they watched Peter lift one foot from the ceiling, making to take a step forward. However, as one foot came loose, they watched as Peter’s cave morphed from one of pride and happiness to one of pure terror as not one foot, but both,loosened themselves from the ceiling and left Peter to plummet downwards, headfirst.

Peter scrunched his eyes tight, expecting to hit the floor. However, to his immense surprise, he was caught instead, somewhat awkwardly, by a pair of long arms. When he opened hi a eyes to look at the face of his savior, he was met with the vision of his new friend Mckartney, who liked immensely relieved to have caught Peter.

The tall man quickly righted the Little in his arms, hugging him close, “Pleas don’t do that again. It was honestly terrifying.”

Peter burst into tears, burying his face in the man’s chest. He thought he was going to get really hurt for a second, and it scared the hell out of him. 

Mckartney hugged him close, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Watching the little fall, he felt as though he were about to loose his own a little, whim to the best of his knowledge, was still safe at home with his husband. However, the scare had left him shocked. He concluded that Peter’s powers were a danger to the Little, if not to others. And in addition, it was we identified that in order to keep the kid safe, Peter would need someone to look after him that had abilities matching his own. A superhuman with the strength, stamina, and reaction time to properly provide the Little with the care he needed. This was, unfortunately, a pair of shoes that Stark could not on his own fill. 

The other Agents in the room were scribbling down notes. It was evident that they, too, had reached the same conclusion.

Mckartney walked the crying little back over to where that had left the two Avengers plushies, picking up the Captain America and Ironman to hand to the small boy. Peter gratefully accepted and snugles I to the toys. Mckartney held the boy until Stark returned, intent on making sure the kid felt as comfortable as possible until he could be back in his caretakers arms.

After handing off the Little to the man, Mckartney went off to share his report findings with Doku, so that they could present their assessment to Fury.

Soon, the boy’s fate would be decided.


	28. Chapter 28

Tony held Peter close, hugging his baby as he walked out of the building. He was escorted to a car by an unknown agent, who drove the two back to Stark Tower. The whole way there, Peter sat on Tony’s lap, hands clinging to the man’s shirt. Peter didn’t want to let go. 

When they arrived, Tony awkwardly got out while still holding Peter. He didn’t think Peterwoulf take kindly to being set down, and he himself really couldn’t bring himself to do that. He loved his kiddie too much, and the ordeal they’d just been through had left them traumatized. Before he could close the car door and walk to the building, the agent rolled down their window and called out Tony’s name.

He stopped, but didn’t go as far as to show the curiously of turning to face the other man. 

The agent informed him, “We’ll be in contact with you tomorrow, and you’ll be informed of our desicions then.”

Right. Because everything happened on their schedule, and they didn’t give two shits if Tony or Peter didn’t like that. Tony finally turned, fuming.

“Oh, yeah? Was that what Fury decided? Well why don’t you give him a message from me: Fuck the  _ everloving hell  _ off. And don’t you ducking dare touch my kid again, or so he’ll me, no power in this material universe would save that man from my wrath.”

And with that he turned on his heel and went inside. 

Once upstairs, the first thing he did was go to change Peter into a better outfit. The one that S.H.I.E.L.D. had put on his baby made his skin crawl. It was as though they were saying, “See? He’s ours. You can’t have him.”

It made Tony sick, and he wondered if Peter also felt the same way, or if he was too regressed to take notice or understand what the clothing meant.

Regardless, he set his sleepy boy down on the changing table and got to work stripping the sleeper of Peter. The kid was half awake now, mumbling incoherently as he half heartedly shoved at Tony’s hands, not liking the discomfort of the cop air against his naked skin,

“Shh, sh, I know buddy. We’re gonna get you all cozied up and ready for night-night time before you know it. Just hold on, okay buddy?”

Tony noticed that Peter’s diaper was full. Darn. Well, it was to be expected, really. It’s not as though S.H.I.E.L.D. has allowed the boy to use the bathroom. Still, Tony had hoped to avoid changing Peter’s diaper, given that the boy still wasn’t all that comfortable with the process.

He made quick work of the diaper, wincing when Peter whimpered a little and started to squirm away. Tony held him down gently as he strapped the diaper over Peter’s hips, cooing and shushing the Little all the while.

Not long after, Peter was snuggled up in a cute green dragon themed footie, eyes dropping with drowsiness. As Tony picked him up, Peter nuzzled not the man, seeking out security and warmth. The little let out a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes.

“No, no, kiddo. I know you want to sleep, I get it. You’ve had a long day. But I need to get some food in you first. You’re far too skinny, and your spider-tummy always wants more food, isn’t that right?”

Tony tickles Peter’s belly, getting a small giggle out of the tired boy, who wormed away from the hand. However, the tickle had its intended effect and succeeded in getting Peter to raise his head and open his eyes.

Peter blinked his eyes sleepily and rubbed at his face, barely able to stay awake. Tony had an idea.

“Do you wanna try a bottle? That way you can go to sleep right after and it’ll be nice, and warm, and yummy. It’ll make you all sleepy and comfy. How’s that sound.”

Peter hummed, happy with the idea he nodded, sticking a couple of fingers in his mouth to chew on.

Tony nodded and headed to the kitchen.

Once there, Tony shifted Peter onto his hip, freeing one of his hands to set about making the bottle. He found himself rather grateful for Peter’s sticky abilities, for it ensured the kids security in his arms. Really, Peter was quite clingy. 

Tony grabbed from the cabinet the special formula mixture he had designed. It was high in calories and nutrients to appease Peter’s speedy metabolism. He assembled the bottle and put it in the microwave to warm it up, rocking pater on his hip and humming a quiet tune. Peter yawned and had soon nuzzled his face back into Tony’s chest.

The microwave beeped, and Tony grabbed the bottle out, letting some of the warm liquid drip in his hand to be sure it wasn’t too hot for Peter. Satisfied with the temperatures, he took the bottle and his baby over to the couch and sat down, arranginging Peter so he was appropriately situated in his lap.

He nudged Peter’s lips with the nipple, and was pleased when the boy immediately lay her on, suckling the bottle down eagerly. Tony chuckled. He must have been hungry.  _ And to think the kid had been insisting on sleeping just minutes ago. He would have regretted not eating while he had the chance.  _

Pretty soon the bottle was dry, and Peter was suckling nothing but air. Tony took the bottle from the boy and laughed when Peter tried to follow it. 

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ll get you more later. For now, go to sleep. I’ll make another bottle when you wake up.”

Peter nodded, and try to cuddled back into Tony, but was surprised when Tony lifted him up, turning him around so that he was faced over Tony’s shoulder. Tony burped the boy, much to Peter’s annoyance. Peter whined as he spit up just a little bit, but Tony wipes it away quickly. Soon he was being cuddled again, and he closed his eyes as he allowed the warmth to surround him and comfort him. 

Tony held his baby as he fell asleep, too stressed to fall asleep himself. For tonight, he’d stay up and watch over Peter.

————————————————

The man with the white car sat at his messy kitchen table in his ramshackle house, reading the file he’d acquired. He’d already read it over several times, but it was all just so shocking and surreal that he had to reread it again and again, just for the information to sink in.

His baby was a superhero.

It was crazy.

Unreal.

But it must be true?

Spider-Man is a Little. A teenaged, high school, orphaned, Little. Tony Stark’s Little.

It was almost tragic. How was any of this working out for them? It couldn’t be a healthy lifestyle, that’s for sure. To the man, it was only further proof that Tony Stark shouldn’t be allowed custody over Peter.

That being said, the man quickly decided that he needed a way to get S.H.I.E.L.D. out of the picture. The agency wanted Peter away from Tony, which was good, but they were also willing to use that rich brat Thompson kid to hurt Peter. And worst of all the agency wanted to get Peter for themselves.

They wanted to take his baby away from him. The man would not stand for that. No, something had to be done. He would have to do something.

There was no way he’d let some slimy government groupo assholes take his baby and use him for his special abilities, simply because he had strong powers. They were obviously using Peter’s status as a Little to get what they wanted. 

That being said, S.H.I.E.L.D. has a couple of good points. Peter’s powers make him a dangerous Little. To others, yes, but more importantly, to himself. Allowing the little to continue with his foolish hero antics was also dangerous to the little guy. The man had to get Peter for himself. Only then, would he be able to set things right, to give Peter the love and care he deserved.

The man looked at the i tire in the file, and picked it up. Caressing it with his hand, he whispered his land to the boy, as well as loving promises to love and protect him forever.

_ Soon, my Peter, soon. _

————————————————-

The next morning Theo woke up early, extremely pumped about his first day attending his assigned Little. He couldn’t wait to meet Peter, properly this time. 

After a quick shower and a small breakfast, Theo packed his back pack and got ready to leave. Just before going, he grabbed a couple of bucks from his desk top drawer, and shoved them into his pocket. He knew a cute little bakery he could stop at inthe way to the bus stop. If he hurried, he could quickly grab something for Peter. He could already hear M.J. telling him not to spoil the kid, but he just couldn’t help himself. Besides, if she really thought that he shouldn’t spoil the kid, then she shouldn’t have told him how much Peter liked churros.

Theo thought back to the Email he’d been sent, which detailed a lot of Peter’s personal needs as a Little. At one point, it had mentioned that the kid was underweight. Therefore, this small gift would only help Peter to be healthier, even if it was only a churro.   
  


He couldn’t wait! He set out on his way to school.


	29. Chapter 29

Peter woke up early in the morning, to a dark room. For a moment, he felt rather disoriented. How had he gotten here? He was warm and cozy, cuddled up to…Tony? On the living room couch. Oh yeah. For a moment, Peter had forgotten that he wasn’t in his own room back in May’s apartment. However, cuddled up to Tony, Peter felt safer than ever.

He thought back to last night. The nights events were rather confusing to him. He had gotten kidnapped, but then got playtime? And then Tony brought him home… Peter shook the thoughts from his head. They were too stressful to dwell on so early in the morning. Instead, he nuzzled back into Tony’s chest, humming contentedly.

He heard a soft chuckle reverberate through the man he was cuddled against, and a hand rose to comb through his hair. Peter sighed, happy about the contact.

“You’re up early.”

“Mhm” Peter affirmed lazily, relaxing into the warmth around him.

“Still not very talkative, I see. Does that mean you’re still Little? If you feel older could you tell me how old you feel?”

Peter thought about it for a moment. He didn’t  _ feel  _ any different than usual, per see. How was one to know whether or not they were old or young? He’d better play it safe. If he says he feels Little, Tony won’t let him wear big boy underwear. Yep, it would definitely be best if Peter told Tony that he was big.

“Imma big-boy.” He announced, sounding confident in his answer. He looked up to look at Tony’s face through the dim light.

Tony looked down at Peter, eyebrow raised. “I see.” He says, obviously not buying it.

Peter frowned. Why’d he say it like that? Did he think Peter was lying? Well that wouldn’t do.

“I  _ aaaaam.”  _ Peter insisted, drawing out the word I’m a slight whine. He squirmed a bit, now more awake then before and ready to get up.

Tony nodded, “I heard ya, buddy.” He said, sitting up and helping Peter get off the couch. Peter was instantly on his feet and moving around, and he ran straight to his room.

  
“Hey,” Tony called after the Little, “slow down! Where are you going?”

Peter came back holding a shirt and shorts to put on, as well as boxers and mismatching socks.

Tony had turned on the lights by then and asked Jarvis to let the light through the big glass windows.

He looked at Peter, who thrust the clothing articles as Tony enthusiastically. 

“Big!” He reiterated.  _ Small vocabulary,  _ Tony notes, still trying to get a read on how Peter was feeling. He was obviously regressed, probably somewhere about two years old. He can y’all, but still doesn’t speak much, which seemed to be usual for Peter. However, he was using words, unlike the much more docile Peter late last night, who had probably only fell at one year old, at most, in age. 

Tony was slightly worried that being kidnapped would negatively affect Peter. After all, it was hardly an easy or fun experience for the kid. He figured it was why Peter had woken up still regressed.

Tony accepted the clothes and looked down at them.

“Shorts?” He asked, glancing outside. The weather had been rather cold lately, and this morning a slight frost was actually visible on the window pane.

He sighed. “Let’s go get you some warmer clothes, huh? So you don’t freeze to death as soon as you step outside?”

He took Peter's hand and walked with the kid back to Peter’s room.

He started looking through Peter’s wardrobe, choosing an outfit for the kid, Peter watched silently, brow slightly furrowed in apparent confusion.

_ Why doesn’t Daddy like my outfit?  _ Peter thought,  _ the T-shirt is even Ironman themed. _

He pouted, seeing the pants and long sleeved shirt Tony had picked out for him instead. He whined, trying to get his Daddy’s attention.

Tony looked over at him, hearing the complaint. “No,” Petersaid sadly, pointing at the boring striped shirt in Tony’s hand.

“Don’t want this one, bud? Okay, how about you pick out a shirt, and I’ll tell you whether or not you can wear it.”

Peter nodded, excited. He ran over to the changing table, where Tony had set his outfit he’d chosen by himself earlier. He grabbed the Ironman Tee, and held it out to Tony again, smiling.

Tony looked at Peter, silent for a moment, before sighing and fleeing Peter as nicely as he could that he couldn’t wear that today because it was too cold out.

Tony moved to take the shirt from Peter again, but was surprised when the kid jerked the shirt out of his reach, saying, “Mine!”

Tony sighed. This was why he had wanted Peter to choose some of his own things. So that he would have more than one Ironman shirt, and one that suited the weather. He mentally berated himself for not having had the foresight to buy more Avenger shirts to begin with. 

“Peter, you can’t wear that. How about you choose something from the closet?”

Peter shook his head, and hugged the tee to his chest, “No! Mine.”

“If you don’t choose a different shirt I’m three seconds, I’m going to make you wear the striped one.”

Peter protested, “No!” He said sadly. Why wouldn’t Daddy let him wear the Ironman shirt? Why was he being mean? Peter’s lip wobbled and his eyes reared up. “Mean.” He muttered quietly, as tears began to well and spill over his eyelids.

Tony sighed in exasperation as his kid began to cry. He didn’t want to upset the kid, but he couldn’t let him run around undressed. “Peter come here buddy,” he said holding his arms out. Peter tearfully ran to him, enveloping himself in Tony’s outstretched arms.

Tony hugged the tearful little as he tried to explain why he wasn’t being mean. “Peter, I’m not trying to be mean to you. I just want you to stay warm and comfy all day. If you’re dressed in only a short sleeved shirt, you’ll get too cold. You don’t want that do you?”

Peter sniffled before slowly shaking his head.

“How about you pick out a different shirt for now. You can wear your Stark Industries sweatshirt, is you want. It’s not exactly ironman, but it’s still all science and cool. That appeals to your nerd brain, right?”

Tony heard a muffled giggle from the kid bundled in his arms, followed by a mumbled, “nerd bwain.” And another giggle. Success!

He grabbed the sweatshirt and then picked Peter up and set him on the changing table. He stripped the onesie off his baby and threw it in the hamper. Then, he got to work getting Peter out of his dirty diaper.

He laughed when he heard Peter say, “ucky,” and point to the diaper as it was removed from him.

“Yeah I bet that did feel pretty icky, didn’t it? I’m sure you’re glad to be rid of it.”

Tony was also glad that Peter wasn’t putting up any fuss at having his diaper changed. That was progress.

Peter lifted a hand and waved his fingers in a “bye-bye” motion as Tony three the soiled article our. He set about cleaning Peter up with wet wipes.

Peter squirmed at the cold feeling, but otherwise didn’t put up any fuss. So far so good. However, that didn’t last long. As he reached for a pull up for Peter to wear to school, he heard a betrayed-sounding, “Nooo!”

Tony looked at his baby, who shook his head at the pull up. “ _ Big boy.” _

Peter said the words as though Rony were being rather dense. Right. Peter was “big” today. Joy. This would be a bit of a struggle.

“Peter it’s only for just in case. I know you’re big, I just want to make sure you don’t have any accidents. And it’s okay for little boys to have accidents, okay? It’s totally normal.”

Peter was having any of it. He squirmed away from Tony (nearly rolling off the table, before Tony caught him) and poured as he pointed at the pull-up, “Ucky. No.”

Tony relented. This was an argument he was bound to fight eventually, and it would be best to show Peter he needed the protection than to tell him. Otherwise, the stubborn boy wouldn’t ever learn. 

“Okay, tell you what. You get to wear underwear for this morning, and if you can go without an accident, you can go to school without your pull-up on. I’m still going to pack some for you though. What ya think? Deal?”

Peter giggles and throws his hands up, “Yay!”

He kicked his feet impatiently, wanting Tony to dress him so he can get to breakfast.

Tony snorted. What a goof. He knew the kid would probably end up having an accident, which would unfortunately make him upset, but at least it would fix this problem in the future. Also, he had been informed that Peter would be with an attendant for the first one today, and he was confident that his needs would be taken care of when that particular disaster strikes, as was bound to happen.

He worked some boxer over Peter’s hips and then got his pants on. Lastly, Tony had the boy sit up and put his arms up so he could slip the sweatshirt over Peter’s head. He had made sure to grab a pair of pants for Peter that had an elevation waist band, so that it would be easier to make it to the toilet on time if Peter at all possibly could. As a finishing touch, Tony pinned Peter’s ducky badge that proclaimed his classification to his shirt front. Peter hummed happily and poked at the little duckling, whispering quietly, “Hello, ducky,” to it. 

With that settled, Tony helped Peter down and they headed off to the kitchen to get some breakfast. 

Tony strapped Peter into the high hair he had ordered, and fit the tray over Peter’s lap.

“What do you think, buddy? I figured you’d like it because you liked the picture in your pin so much.”

Peter nodded, surveying the chair. It had cute little ducklings all over it, as well as tiny frogs, and the tray had what looked like a picture book scene of a pond with fishes in it.

Peter pointed at the frog and informed Tony of what it was, just in case he didn’t know, “a wibbit!”

“Good job buddy. Now how about you get some food in your belly? Tony set a sippy cup of milk on the tray, along with a couple of handfuls of baby cereal for Peter to pick up with his fingers.

Peter kicked his feet happily and set about munching on his food. Tony, meanwhile, poured itself some coffee and grabbed a bagel, spreading some cream cheese on it.

After breakfast, Tony went over to his room to get changed and showered, and dropped Peter off in a playpen full of stuffies. He had spent the day before putting it together while Peter was at school, eager to help Peter settle down into his new lifestyle. 

As soon as Peter was sat down, he immediately started inspecting all the animals, and selected a couple to play with. He happily chewed on a hand as he grabbed one of his new toys. Tony gently pulled Peter’s fingers from his mouth and inserted a paci into his mouth instead. Peter suckled at it without complaint and continued playing.

Content that Peter was occupied, Tony walked into his bathroom and turned the shower on. He made sure to leave the bathroom door open so that Peter was in full view at all times. 

After getting himself ready, packing Peter’s things, and dragging a protesting Peter away from his new play pen, Tony and Peter we’re getting in the car to go to school, Happy sitting at the wheel.

Peter was strapped securely in his seat and looking out his window as they drove. He felt Tony tap his shoulder, and turned. Tony handed him his phone. Peter smiled. Yay! Now he could text Ned all about meeting a mutant. Cool.

“Why don’t you call your Aunt? You could catch her before she leaves for work if you call while we drive.”

Peter smiled and nodded. That was a good idea. He missed May. A lot.

“See May?” He asked his Daddy. Tony smiled, and nodded.

“That’s the plan, buddy. She’s gonna come over for the weekend, see how you’re adjusting to your new life here.”

Peter nodded. He clicked Mays name in the contacts, proud that he knew how to do that. He showed Tony her name on the screen as the phone dialed. Tony told him, “good job,” making him feel very proud.

Peter held the phone to his ear and waited for May to pick up. 

_ Click. _

“Peter? Hi, what’s up? You need to tell me all about how everything is going! I mean, I’m on the edge of my seat here! Are you settling in okay? Mr Stark is treating you right? You worked out your SuperHero stuff? Tell me!”

Peter smiles, and giggles a bit before saying,”Hi, May! Goin ta school. I big boy!”

Tony snorted. May wasn’t going to understand a single thing he was on about. Ah well. That wasn’t what mattered. May would just be happy to talk to the kid.

“You’re a big boy? I bet you are. You have fun at school today, hear me?”

“Fun!” Peter echoes.

“That’s right! You be a good boy for your aunt then, no causing Tony any trouble, got it?”

“No twouble! I angel for daddy.”

“Oh, yeah. I bet you’re a real angel. Tony better think so too, or else I’ll be hearing elsewise come this weekend.”

Peter giggled.

“Alright sweetheart, I got to go, or I’ll be late for work. Be safe, love you!” She made a kissy noise the phone, to get one last laugh out of Peter before she went.

“Wuv you!” Peter sang back, happily, before May hung up.

Peter smiled at Tony, who ruffled the kid's hair. He was glad to see his Little so happy, especially after last night’s ordeal.

Soon after, they’d arrived at the school building, and Tony got Peter out of the car and lead him through the front door by the hand. He dropped him off in the office, where he would wait until his attendant arrived to escort him to class.

Tony gave Peter a kiss on the forehead and a hug goodbye, and then walked out the door, entrusting Peter’s safety to the school.

———————————————-

Phil Coulson sat in his office, expression schooled, taking the heated lecture that the man across from home was delivering. 

The angry cyclops towering over his desk was practically foaming at the mouth, and rightfully so. Phil has failed spectacularly at his job, slipping up in the tiniest, but most fatal, of ways.

It was justified for Fury to be angry. Phil just worried about what the consequences he’d have to face were.

His head aches. He wished Fury would just cut to the chase. It didn’t do to start out early mornings this way.

Fury stopped in his lecturing and blaming for a moment, exhaustion written across the man’s features.

He leaned over the desk, palms flat against the wood, and stared meaningfully down at Phil.

In a much quieter and calmer voice, he continued, words still very much full of sterness and deliberation, “Now, Agent Coulson, I have been up all night overseeing a murder investigation because of you. It’s been inconclusive as of yet, but we’re working on it. All of this effort is necessary because of you, and a small blunder. And you’re trying to tell me that the file just ‘slipped your mind’ for a hot minute? That’s completely I like you! You don’t forget things! Ever! You’re my number one agent, my best man. Nobody is as good at what they do as you. What happened?”

Coulson sighed, and rubbed at his brow, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Fury. “It’s like I said. I just forgot. I don’t know why, but I did. Maybe I was just being careless.”

“Bullshit. Now I know you passed the mental examination after your surgery, and that you were cleared for service, but I want you to tell me, honestly: are you actually ready for work? I know those headaches of yours haven’t gone away, and you display a million and one signs of stress. You’ve been distracted and disorganized. You don’t look like a healthy man to me, Phil. I need you to tell me if you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just stressed, like you said. Nothing else.”

“And you haven’t been experiencing any other adverse side effects that may stem from your recent injury?”

“Just the headaches, sir.”

Fury nodded, and stood back up, pushing off the desk. 

“Okay. You do understand that I can’t allow you to keep working though? If not for your safety, then for liability reasons? I don’t want you in the field, Agent, you worry me. You seem unhealthy, and I think this work may be worsening that. You also pose a risk to your fellow agents. A man died last night, Coulson. Let that sink in.”

Phil nodded. He’d know. This had been coming. A pit of dread sucked at his gut, giving him the feeling of falling. Just how much were they going to limit his work?

“What does that mean for me, sir?”

“Now I don’t want to do this to you, you know that. But I can’t allow you any access to important documents, at least for the time being. Not until we can ensure that you are mentally ready for the task. We also cannot allow you to partake in any field work, or have access to confidential cases and missions.”

“I understand. Is that permanent?” Phil’s voice cracked on the last word. He didn’t want to be done. He hadn’t accomplished nearly enough in his time at work. He d entered the agency to make a difference. Had he even begun to leave a mark?

“I don’t know. We’ll have you suspended for now. It will be paid of course. We value you highly, and your condition was brought upon you because of your devotion to your work and this agency. You deserve to have a break. It may be permanent, though, I must warn you. If you do not display significant improvement over the time we allot to you. You will have regular check ins with our best doctors, of course.”

“I understand. But sir? You've mentioned my involvement in certain cases and information being revoked, but you haven’t mentioned my status of caregiver, nor the agent I’ve been assigned to as handler.”

“Ah. You mean Barton. Naturally, given your biology, that would be a concern. You don’t need to worry. We said we’d take care of you, which means that we’ll allow you contact with your little, still. In fact, I’ve decided that it would be the best thing for you to give you full custody over Barton. It would be therapeutic to you, and would give you something to do in the absence of your work. Barton will still have missions, of course, so there will be times when he’s away. We’ll inform you when they come up.”

Coulson sagged in relief. In all honesty, that had been the thing that had worried him most. Clint. The little was clingy and didn’t do well when separated from Phil for too long. It gave the kid anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt his baby just because he was incompetent.

“Thank you, sir.”

Fury nodded curtly. Without further ado, he turned to leave the office, throwing a single, “You’re dismissed, Agent,” over his shoulder.

Phil sat in his chai for a moment longer, before getting up to go home. He wondered when Clint would get back from his current mission.

Now, he would get to spend time outside of work with his little. It took away the sting of suspension considerably. For the first time in months, Coulson walked with a spring in his step, and a small smile on his lips, rather than the weary hunched demeanor he usually portrayed. He had something to look forward to. It made his heart sing.


	30. Chapter 30

Peter sat in a chair in the office, waiting for his attendant to show up. He wondered who he would get.

Peter kicked his legs. Sitting here was so boring! It’s as though it’s been hours, but when Peter looks at the clock, he finds that it’s only been a few minutes.

Why did he have to sit here anyways? It was so stupid. He could walk to class on his own. He was a big boy. He didn't need help with anything.

Just then, a taller boy walked in, waving to the secretary and looking around the room for Peter. When his eyes settled on the boy, his face lit up. He smiled.

“Hi Peter! I’m Theo, we kinda met just the other day. Awkwardly, I admit, but I think we’ll do better this time around. I’m gonna be your attendant!”

Peter crosses his arms. “No! Big boy!”

Theo frowned. “What, too big for an attendant?”

Peter nodded, puffing out his chest to show how strong he was.

Theo chuckled. “Okay, how about just a friend then? Or are you too big to be friends with me too?” Theo Gabe an exaggerated pout, making like Peter had hurt his feelings.

Peter uncrossed his arms. Did he make Theo sad? But that’s not what he’d been trying to do at all! He shook his head quickly. Big boys could have friends, so Theo could still be friends with Harry.

Hey hopped out of his chair and ran over to Theo, pausing for a moment in front of him. He looked up at the taller male. “No sad?” He asked, “we be friends!”

Theo put a hand over his heart. “Really?! We can be friends?”

Peter nodded vigorously, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The big guy was kind of scary at first, but Peter didn’t want to make him sad. Besides, the more friends he had, the more people he could play with! He looked up at Theo. Should he give him a hug? That always made him feel better when he was sad. Peter decided he should, and quickly leapt forward to give Theo a hug, not giving himself enough time to psych himself out over the fact that he still found Theo a little scary.

Theo blinked one surprise as Peter threw himself at him. Quickly, he caught the little, surprised at the force of impact the kid had packed behind the hug. “No sad?” He heard Peter ask again.

Theo’s heart melted at the gesture. How did this kid manage to be so sweet and kind and adorable all at once? He wasn’t going to want to leave him for the first class of the day, but Peter had to attend his Little class on his own, and Theo still had to meet with the other Alphas. But after that, they’d be able to be together. Theo couldn’t wait. Peter didn’t seem scared of him anymore either, and that made his heart swell with joy. He hated how it felt when Peter had backed away from him in terror that first day. 

“I’m not sad anymore,” he assured, and was awarded with a bright smile from Peter as the boy drew back from the hug.

“Alright, kiddo, how about we walk to class together then?”

Peter nodded happily, before pausing and frowning, “No kiddo! Big boy,” he reminded Theo.

“Ah, right. You’re big today. Got it.”

Peter beamed and grabbed Theo’s hand. He tugged at it, trying to walk away. However, Theo paused mid step, announcing, “Oh wait! I almost forgot. I got you something, Peter, for you first day with me.”

He knelt down and swung the bag off his back. From inside, he pulled a small white pastry bag and handed it to Peter. Peter looked at it blankly as Theo closed his bag again and stood up.

“Open it up, Peter!”

It was for him? Wow! It was like a present. A surprise. Peter decided he liked Theo a lot, and was glad that he had decided to be friends with him.

He opened it up and looked inside, face lighting up. It was a churro! How did Theo know he like those? Whatever. Yay!

He looked back up at Theo and gave him a big smile, and remembered his manners, “‘Fanks,” he said. Tony would be proud that he remembered to say thank you.

After that, Theo took hold of Peter’s hand once again, and they made their way through the building toward their respective classes. Theo was reluctant to let Peter go once they got to his class, but he did so anyway. He waved to Peter and told him to have fun, watching as the Littles happily ran over to a girl with curly hair to show her his children that he had gotten. He saw Peter offer her a bite and smiled. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to get accepted into the attendant program, but boy was he glad. It made his entire world brighter, and it was only day one. Theo headed back to his class, heart thrumming with anticipation and excitement for the day ahead of him. He couldn’t wait to meet up with M.J. and her little at lunch. She had also told him she was going to introduce him to another kid who’d gotten into the attendant program, a boy named Ned, and his assigned Little Tanner.

He could barely pay attention to the alpha teacher as the man talked. He was far too excited about today to listen to whatever biological facts about his classification. Besides, the man was talking about alpha dynamics in regards to omegas, and Theo couldn’t help but thinking,  _ who even cares?  _ He’d never felt anything special towards omegas a day in his life. Why did everyone expect him to change now, just because of some stupid test and a pin on his shirt? It all seemed so stupid and frivolous. His parents were convinced that there was something wrong with him, and his mother even tried to get him to turn down the offered attendant-ship last night. He was so glad he hadn’t. She could think he was weird if she wanted, it wasn’t going to make Theo like Littles any less, or accept his own classification any more.

Thought swirled in his head as class continued. Why should he have to live this way, the way that is ‘usual’ for Alphas? What if he didn’t think that an average Joe Shmoe job and omega partner wasn’t the end all be all of what life should amount to? What if he didn’t see the allure in having pups with his partner? Or if he thought that Alpha rivalries were pointless, pretentious, and stupid, as far as social dynamics go. Like why the fuck was he expected to square up to every other alph who felt threatened by him? He wished everyone in the alpha community was as down to earth as M.J. was. She didn’t engage in social conformity to something this ridiculous. 

He frowned. He had seriously considered his parents words for a while. They told him that he only felt wrong about his classification because they had encouraged him to behave as though he were part of a different class, before he had even taken the test. His mother had even cried and hugged him, saying that she was sorry and that it was all her fault that he did t feel comfortable in his own skin, with his own biology. His dad had promised him that they’d do their best to fix him.

But what if he didn’t want to be ‘fixed’? What if he wasn’t broken, like they said he was? Why did they feel like he was an abomination, when all he wanted was to follow a different life path?

Why couldn’t they accept that and just love him for him, and not some weird stranger they want him to be?

Theo sighed, and pushed the thoughts from his mind, focusing instead on whatever garbage his teacher was spewing about territorial instincts. 

———————————————-

Peter was waiting in the Little room, ready for Theo to walk him to physics. He kicked his feet impatiently. Maybe he should just go on his own? After all, he didn’t need Theo to show him where the physics room was. He looked across the room to where Miss Rita sat, sifting through some papers on her desk. She seemed distracted enough. Surely she wouldn’t notice if he left early.

He got up quietly from his chair, and began sneakily tip-toeing his way over to the door. He held his breath to make sure he was extra quiet. He was almost there! Just a few steps and he’d be free!

Suddenly, a voice rang out behind him, making him jump nearly out of his skin, “Just where do you think you’re going, little boy?”

He’d been caught! He turned to see Moss Rita walking towards him, and made a small squeak of fear before dashing away to hide from her.

He slid under a table and peeled out at the woman, eyes wide. Was she angry with him? Was she going to yell at him? He looked at her form and noticed her shoulders shaking slightly. She was laughing at him! 

He watched as she crouched down next to the table and looked under at him. He moved a little further under the table.

Miss Rita was still softly laughing, “Why must you be such a troublemaker, Peter? Come on out I’m not angry.”

She wasn’t? But Peter was going to leave without permission! 

“You’re not allowed to leave without Theo to supervise you, no, but that’s why I need to keep a close eye on you! It seems you're more prone to wander into trouble, hmm?”

Peter frowned. What did she mean, he needed closer supervision? He wasn’t some kid who didn’t know better. He was big enough to go to school without another person monitoring him.

Regardless, he crawled out from under the table. If he wasn’t in trouble, who was he to complain?

Just then, Theo walked in, excitedly exclaiming, “Peter!” as though he had been waiting ages to see the Little again.

Peter felt his face warm up in embarrassment, but it made his heart warm too. He was glad to have another friend, especially one that was so happy to see him.

Suddenly he felt bad about having almost left without Theo. That hadn’t been very nice or considerate. Peter would just have to be extra nice to the attendant to make up for it, even if he was a little intimidating. Peter ran up to Theo and grabbed his hand, mentally congratulating himself for his own courage. 

Theo looked to Miss Rita and told her, “I got him from here. Have a good day then,” and turned to take Peter to class. Miss Rita waved cheerily at the two as they walked off.

Peter happily swung his hand in Theos as they walked. He couldn’t wait for physics to be over, because then he could go to lunch and see M. J. and Ned. He had missed his friends a lot and wanted to tell them all about getting kidnapped, and how he was super brave, and how his new Daddy saved him and took him home.

But for now he would have to sit through class. At least he’d get to sit by Tanner again! Peter wondered if Tanner had his own attendant or not. Tanner was older than Peter, so maybe he didn’t need one.

_ I don’t need one either, _ Peter thought, jealously. 

Peter and Theo entered the classroom and made their way to the back. There, in the same spot as before, sat Tanner. Without an attendant. Peter pouteda bit and let go of Theo’s hand. He couldn’t let Tanner see him holding hands with someone like a baby. He could walk to his seat by himself.

Theo didn’t question when Peter let go of his hand. He just followed behind as the little boy trotted over to his seat next toTanner, and calmly sat next to the two Littles.

Tanner was chewing on his pencil and staring into space. Peter tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. Peter waved shyly.

Tanner grinned. “Hey Peter-pie!” He said around the pencil. Then he saw Theo and stiffened slightly. Something about the kid seemed vaguely intimidating. Tanner eyed Theo’s badge. Ah. That would explain it: an alpha.

He pointed (rather rudely) at Theo and whispered to Peter (rather loudly), “Who is that guy you’re with?”

“Theo. He’s my friend.”

“Oh.” Tanner looked at Theo. What was an Alpha doing at the Little table?

Theo smiled kindly and gave Tanner a small wave. “Hi, nice to meet you, Tanner. I’m Peter’s attendant.”

Peter blushed. “Just friends,” he rushed to tell Tanner, “I a big boy.”

Tanner nodded, seriously. He waved at Theo.

Class began for Tanner and Peter shortly after. Theo has already received his work in the first half of class, and was now mostly focused on helping Peter with his more Little-oriented tasks.

Theo could tell that Peter was particularly far in head space today, which was going to prove to be a slight problem, seeing as today’s lesson centered on learning and writing certain vocabulary with definitions, a task more suited to someone jot so deeply immersed in head space. That was okay though, because that was Theo’s job. 

The teacher was giving the Littles instructions from the front of the room, telling them about the new unit on Inertia they were beginning. Peter chewed on his fingers and swung his legs, bored. He squirmed in his seat.

As he tried to listen to instructions, Peter found himself distracted by basically everything in the room. The clock tick-ticked audibly, counting the seconds that passed. Someone tapped a pencil. Papers rustled, and a pair of hushed voices could be heard discreetly trading gossip under the teachers radar.

Peter squirmed in his seat. He wanted to go play! Maybe if he found something more interesting to look at than the stupid work sheet in front of him, he’d be able to sit still better.

Peter looked around, trying to find something interesting. He inspected the wall, full idboring posters, and looked at the looping scale of writing on the board. Boring, all of it.

He shifted his gaze to the floor. There! He finally spotted something interesting.A bright neon pink and orange object caught his attention. But what was it? He couldn’t see from here. He stood up and leaned over the desk, trying to get a better look and knocking his paper to the floor in the process.

“Oh, Peter, be careful!” He heard Theo say, before the boy got up and ducked under the table to retrieve Peter’s things.

Peter paid him no mind. He really wanted to know what that bright colored thing was. He stood up, pushing his chair back. He made his way into the aisle of seats, and got down on his hands and knee to crawl towards the object. Behind him, Theo re-emerged from the table, on time to see Peter out of his seat and crawling across the dirty floor. 

“Peter, where are you going? Come back to your seat for a minute.”

Peter was too busy right now. He looked at the object. It was in reach now. He crouched above it. It appeared to be some sort of eraser, but it was just so colorful! Almost like candy…

He reached out and picked it up. Maybe he should taste it. It was on the floor, but a little taste wouldn’t hurt, right? He opened his mouth, and was bringing it up to taste it when suddenly he found someone else’s hand was impeding his progress.

He looked up to see whose hand had stopped his, and found Theo’s face looking down at him.

“Peter, you can’t eat that, it’s all icky. You need to tell me when you’re too little to do your school work, okay? We can leave class for a bit if you can’t focus. But you need to tell me these things.”

Peter looked away, back at his hand, which still gripped the eraser. What did he mean, too little? And why couldn’t he eat this thing? He wanted to. It was so pretty.

He whined a bit as Theo pried it from his fingers. “No! Mine!”

Theo admonished him, “Please don’t be fussy, buddy. I can’t just let you stick that in your mouth. Now how about we be quiet for the other kids?”

Peter looked around. Oh yeah. He had forgotten about the other students, and had kind of been making a scene. Whoops. However, there were more important matters at hand. Like that colorful eraser.

He watched as Theo put it on a desk beside him, and stood to reach for it. But before he could reach it, he felt himself being hoisted into the air. Theo had picked him up and was walking towards the front of class, towards the teacher. 

Peter whined again, trying to squirm away and get to the eraser. But he watched over Theo’s shoulder as each step took him further and further away from his new treasure

He kicked his legs and whined louder. Why wasn’t Theo listening to him? Weren’t they friends?

Theo stopped in front of the teacher and apologized, “I’m sorry, I think Peter’s feeling

Littler than I had anticipated. He’s a little fussy and I think he might be disruptive to class, so I was just going to take him out for a bit?”

Wait, they were leaving? But what about the pretty eraser?! The teacher nodded to Theo, excising him and Peter to leave. Peter whimpered loudly, realizing that he was never going to see the eraser again. He pointed at it, but Theo just said, “I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t just let you have that. We’re going to have to leave it there, okay?”

No! It was most definitely  _ not _ okay. Peter sobbed at Theo’s betrayal, and buried his face in the taller boy’s shoulder, tears now freely flowing from his eyes. He heard Theo sigh beneath him.

They left the classroom, sobbing Peter in hand.

Peter cried his heart out, now openly wailing as Theo parred his back and shushed him softly. They walked around the halls, Theo bouncing Peter soothingly the whole time.

After some time, the cries died down, and Peter shook as he tried to right his breathing. Theo rubs his back soothingly. He gasped for breath and quietly sniffled into Theo’s shoulder. How did he feel so tired already? The crying had really taken the energy out of him.

Theo eventually sat down, just in the hall, back against a wall of lockers. He helped Peter in his lap, securely wrapping his arms around the small boy. They sat like that for a while.

Peter found his eyes dripping a bit as he soaked up the comfort that Theo provided. 

He found himself beginning to drift off, feeling warm, and Sade, and comfortable. The eraser was forgotten as he snuggled closer to Theo. An intense feeling of relief came over him as he felt awash in comfort.

After a while though, he heard Theo mutter, “Shit!” And felt him move beneath him.

Peter sleepily opened his eyes as Theo stood up with him. He looked up at Theo, who looked a little exasperated with himself, and asked, “Bad word?”

Theo looked at Peter and was suddenly rushing to console him, but what for?

“Don’t worry, Peter. It’s okay. I’m not angry, or upset with you in any way, okay? It’s fine, these things happen all the time.”

Why was Theo treating Peter like he might break into tears at any minute? The taller boy looked supremely worried, and kept rambling on, obviously trying to console Peter before he broke out in tears. But why? Peter was still confused.

Theo kept talking, “It’s really all my fault, I totally didn’t check. Even when I knew how Little you were today. I should have anticipated this. I don’t know why I didn’t check to see if you had on a diaper or not, but I didn’t. I’m sorry about that, baby. But it’s okay, because we can go and get that all fixed up.”

Diaper? Suddenly, as Theo began making his way towards what was presumably the Little room, Peter became all too aware of a cooling sensation near his crotch, thighs, and belly.

He looked down, dread coiling in his chest. He hadn’t…? Oh no! He had wet himself. All over Theo. Like a little baby. And he hadn’t even realized it! Mortification seeped into Peter’s mind as he started sobbing anew. He buried his head in Theo’s shoulder once more, this time out of shame.

He heard Theo trying to calm him down, voice desperate, “Aw, please don’t cry, baby. It’s all okay, I promise. It’s normal for Little boys to wet themselves. Don’t worry about it. I’m here to take care of that. I’ll make it all better, okay?

Peter wasn’t sure he could make it all better. It seemed impossible to him that he would ever recover from the pure humiliation of the incident. His cries only grew louder and more distressed.

Theo picked up his pace, trying to get to the Little room faster. Poor baby, this day was turning out to be something of a disaster.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments and suggestions and questions plz! Other than that, Hope y’all have a stellar day


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